The Right Reverend Charles Tucker Eland’s glebe tenant, Farmer Fisher. The Right Reverend Rector’s friend’s friend, the Rector of Shimpling’s churchwarden, Farmer Stearn, and lastly, beloved, Mr. Harry Witherly. A fitting finale to this family party—I mean Council School Managing Committee—was provided by the Right Reverend Charles Tucker Eland’s loyal glebe tenant, Farmer Fisher, who remarked upon “the harm which had been done to the parish by closing the school.” Had Farmer Fisher been a _medico_ one might have sympathised with him in his sorrow at “whooping cough” not being allowed to attend school whilst the rector was in Switzerland, but as Mr. Fisher is not a medical gentleman by profession one is forced to the sad conclusion that though he may put money in his purse he really ought to have more furniture in his attic. His theory for the elimination of disease is certainly original. Children who may suffer in the future from mumps, whooping cough, scarlet fever, managers, or any other disease liable to be captured by juveniles, may say to their parents, “Please don’t keep me at home. Please mother, Mr. Fisher recommends Council School treatment, so that I may share it with the others.” “Yes, Bor. Whoop, whoop, whooping cough.” Yes! I can safely recommend a little attic salt. I must not be too hard, however, on our friend; it is not quite safe for glebe tenants to differ from rectors as a rule. Three are already on notice for differing. Mrs. Higdon, having faced the alternatives of being reprimanded for _not_ closing the school or for allowing the reverend gentleman from Shimpling to close it—you takes your choice—went back to attend to her bairns considerably chastened, and Burston breathed again as of yore. Unfortunately, the only two Englishmen who could have done justice to this theme are both dead. Set to appropriate poetry by Gilbert, composed and orchestrated with a slight Mozartean sprinkling of consecutive fifths by Sir A. Sullivan, it might have brought down the house at the Savoy, likewise the National Union of Teachers’ Executive, had the N.U.T.S. not been suffering from sleeping sickness. However, the reverently-composed committee had not given up all hopes, although the case was against them this time. The next act opens with the appearance of Mr. Ikin, assistant-secretary to the Norfolk Education Committee. He paid what is known as a surprise visit. A surprise visit is the most modern form of torture. In the olden days they always brought you something. To-day they try to take everything you’ve got. In the olden days you sometimes received a goose, to-day they send you a picture postcard. His surprise words to Mrs. Higdon were: “What is wrong between you and the managers?” Mrs. Higdon replied that she was not aware that there was anything wrong.