Having saved myself from fainting by finishing the B. and S., I sat for some minutes gasping for breath. Then I rubbed my eyes and reread that awful epistle. Yes--it was so--in solemn, sober black ink! Beauty's twin had got four fine kittens! Great Jehoshaphat! How could I ever get over those confounded kittens! It was too late to murder them. And my aunt--but stop! Let me read her letter; it might suggest something--some feline legerdemain method of conjuring four fine kittens into a first prize black male cat. So here goes. And this is how it went: "I always considered you to be a fool, Samuel, but nothing worse, until now. Unless the enclosed letter is immediately fully explained, and the matter set right, I shall plainly let you know what I do think of you now, and act accordingly. See the secretary, and telegraph me the result at once." Not much hope in that, worse luck; only a limited respite. [Illustration: WENT FISHING.] Away I went to the show, saw the secretary--from a safe distance--and immediately telegraphed: "Have seen the secretary. Hard at work setting matters right. Awfully sorry." Then I hired a boat, and went fishing for the rest of the day. In the evening I wired: "Beauty must have got changed. Cats now all going home. Found clue and am following up. All right shortly." But my aunt's patience had expired. Next morning came a curt note saying she would at once join me, and either rescue Beauty or settle that secretary. How could I ever face those searching spectacles! I fled. From a lonely spot on the wilds of Dartmoor I wired: "Am following clue sharp. Getting close up. Good news next time." Back came an answer: "Shall be with you to-morrow at noon." At noon next day, I boarded the mail packet Tongariro, bound from Plymouth to New Zealand. [Illustration: OFF TO NEW ZEALAND.] * * * * * PEOPLE I HAVE NEVER MET BY SCOTT RANKIN. MRS. HUMPHRY WARD. [Illustration] "You can do nothing by despising the past and its products; you also can do nothing by being too much afraid of them.... Be content to be a new 'sect,' 'conventicle,' or what not, so long as you feel that you are _something_, with a life and purpose of its own, in this tangle of a world."--_Robert Elsmere_. * * * * * THE IDLERS CLUB Is Love a Practical Reality or a Pleasing Fiction? [Sidenote: Mrs. Lynn Linton thinks there is no doubt as to Love's reality.]