"Come and try," said Bob to me. "It's not really difficult." I went and stood over the chairs. Then I moved them apart and walked over to my hostess. "Good-bye," I said; "I'm afraid I must go now." "Coward!" said somebody, who knew me rather better than the others. "It's much easier than you think," said Bob. "I don't think it's easy at all," I protested. "I think it's impossible." I went back and stood over the chairs again. For some time I waited there in deep thought. Then I bent my knees preparatory to the spring, straightened them up, and said: "What happens if you just miss it?" "I suppose you bark your shins a bit." "Yes, that's what I thought." I bent my knees again, worked my arms up and down, and then stopped suddenly and said: "What happens if you miss it pretty easily?" "Oh, YOU can do it, if Bob can," said Miss Power kindly. "He's practised. I expect he started with two hassocks and worked up to this. I'm not afraid but I want to know the possibilities. If it's only a broken leg or two, I don't mind. If it's permanent disfigurement I think I ought to consult my family first." I jumped up and came down again the same way for practice. "Very well," I said. "Now I'm going to try. I haven't the faintest hope of doing it, but you all seem to want to see an accident, and, anyhow, I'm not going to be called a coward. One, two, three..." "Well done," cried everybody. "Did I do it?" I whispered, as I sat on the floor and pressed a cushion against my shins. "Rather!" "Then," I said, massaging my ankles, "next time I shall try to miss." THE CONTINENTAL MANNER OF course I should recognize Simpson anywhere, even at a masked ball. Besides, who but Simpson would go to a fancy-dress dance as a short-sighted executioner, and wear his spectacles outside his mask? But it was a surprise to me to see him there at all. "Samuel," I said gravely, tapping him on the shoulder, "I shall have to write home about this." He turned round with a start. "Hallo!" he said eagerly. "How splendid! But, my dear old chap, why aren't you in costume?" "I am," I explained. "I've come as an architect. Luckily the evening clothes of an architect are similar to my own. Excuse me, sir, but do you want a house built?" "How do you like my dress? I am an executioner. I left my axe in the cloak-room." "So I observe. You know, in real life, one hardly ever meets an executioner who wears spectacles. And yet, of course, if one CAN'T see the head properly without glasses--" "By Jove," said Simpson, "there she is again." Columbine in a mask hurried past us and mixed with the crowd. What one could see of her face looked pretty; it seemed to have upset Simpson altogether. "Ask her for a dance," I suggested. "Be a gay dog, Simpson. Wake London up. At a masked ball one is allowed a certain amount of licence."