sanitation. "'Is there need to prolong the story? My father, so unexpectedly enriched, abandoned architecture and married almost immediately. Soon he became the idol of a popular constituency, and, voting steadily with his party, was made a baronet. I was born a few months after the first dividend was announced. It was a dividend of thirty-three per cent, for "Olotutu" had become an indispensable adjunct to every toilet-table and the financial papers published leaders, boasting of having put their clients up to a good thing, and "Olotutu" was on everybody's tongue and got into everybody's eyes. "'Can you wonder, then, that I was born with a congenital craving for springing mysteries upon the public? Can you still disbelieve that I suffer from an hereditary tendency to advertise in the agony column? "'At periodic intervals an irresistible prompting to force uncouth words upon the universal consciousness seizes me; at other times I am driven to beguile the public with pseudo-sensational communications to imaginary personages. It was fortunate my father early discovered my penchant and told me the story of his life, for I think the very knowledge that I am the victim of heredity helps me to defy my own instincts. No man likes to feel he is the shuttlecock of blind forces. Still they are occasionally too strong for me, and my present attack has been unusually severe and protracted. I have been passing through my father's early phases and conducting romances by correspondence. Complimentary to the series of messages signed Popsy, I had prepared a series signed Wopsy to go in on alternate days, and if you had only continued your search in my coat-pocket you would have discovered these proofs of my innocence. May I trust it is now re-established, and that "Olotutu" has washed away the apparent stain on my character? With anxious heart I await your reply. "'Ever yours devotedly, "'GUY.' "Sybil's reply was: 'I have read your letter. Do not write to me again.' She was so set against him," concluded Miss Nimrod, "she would not even write this but wired it." "Then she does not believe the story of how Guy Fledgely's father became a baronet," said Lord Silverdale. "She does not. She says 'Olotutu' won't wash stains." "Well, I suppose you will be bringing her up," said the President. "I will--in the way she should go;" answered Wee Winnie. "To-day is Saturday; I will bring her on Monday. Meantime as it is getting very late, and as I have finished my lemonade, I will bid you good afternoon--have you used 'Olotutu?'" And with this facetious inquiry Miss Nimrod twirled her stick and was off. An hour later Lillie received a wire from Wee Winnie. "_Olotutu. Wretches just reconciled. Letter follows._"