We were assembled, said the Chairman, to honour and acclaim once more the day of September, that was ever in our hearts. (Very good.) We were assembled to do honour to those who fought with us on that great day, and fell beside us for the honour and glory of France. (Very good, very good.) We were here— The Chairman called gesture to the aid of eloquence, swinging his left arm with a backward movement; guests leaned forward to miss nothing, their faces becoming flushed as he proceeded, eyes filling as he recited the names of those who had gone from this world since the last meeting. His rapidity of utterance increased: the guests panted as they followed eagerly: one man rose in his excitement, and neighbours pulled him down. At the door of the kitchen, the two girls, bearing trays of coffee, waited, trembling with excitement so that the cups rattled. A perfect cascade of phrases; glory, country, honour, comrades, revenge, every word rushing past the others, and then Zwinger sprang to his feet, echoed the toast wildly, and, holding his glass, clinked it with mine, clinked it with Mr. Honoré’s, saluted the company, drank, and sat down. * * * * * The carpenters were early at work the following morning, joining thus to their duties the functions of an alarum clock. As I went out for a stroll at eight, intending to go so far as the fringe of the woods and back, I saw Zwinger walking up and down outside the restaurant, his hands deep in jacket pockets. “My felicitations,” I said, cheerily, “on the enormous success of—” Zwinger gave one of his monosyllables that express disinclination for speech, disinclination to listen to speech from other people. Turning, he slippered away. IX—THE LEADING LADY TO tell the truth, I was not feeling in my best form. Just before entering the tramcar I had a brief dispute with my mother in regard to the contents of a fruit-shop at the beginning of Gray’s Inn Road. There are many subjects on which the two of us fail to see eye to eye, and frequently a somewhat acrimonious debate ends in triumph on her side. At times, we get along admirably together; at others a recommendation from her that I should not exhibit temper goads me into something like fury. The storm over, I am sorry that it happened. My mother has often remarked that I can be a perfect lady when I like. “Not a one to nurse a grievance,” she adds. “A couple of minutes and it’s all past and forgotten.”