I continued to put on more ounces. Still the bar remained up! I was eight-stone-thirteen.... Good heavens, I was eight-stone-fourteen! I pushed the-thing-you-move-up-and-down back to the zero position, and exchanged the half-stone weight for a stone one. Excited but a trifle cold, for it was a fresh morning, and the upper part of the window was wide open, I went up from nine stone ounce by ounce.... At nine-stone-twelve I jumped off for a moment and shut the window.... At eleven-stone-eight I had to get off again in order to attend to the bath, which was in danger of overflowing.... At fifteen-stone-eleven the breakfast gong went.... At nineteen-stone-nine I realized that I had overdone it. However I decided to know the worst. The worst that the machine could tell me was twenty-stone-seven. At twenty-stone-seven I left it. Celia, who had nearly finished breakfast, looked up eagerly as I came in. "Well?" she said. "I am sorry I am late," I apologized, "but I have been putting on flesh." "Have you really gone up?" she asked excitedly. "Yes." I began mechanically to help myself to porridge, and then stopped. "No, perhaps not," I said thoughtfully. "Have you gone up much?" "Much," I said. "Quite much." "How much? Quick!" "Celia," I said sadly, "I am twenty-stone-seven. I may be more; the weighing-machine gave out then." "Oh, but, darling, that's much too much." "Still, it's what we came here for," I pointed out. "No, no bacon, thanks; a small piece of dry toast." "I suppose the machine couldn't have made a mistake?" "It seemed very decided about it. It didn't hesitate at all." "Just try again after breakfast to make sure." "Perhaps I'd better try now," I said, getting up, "because if I turned out to be only twenty-stone-six I might venture on a little porridge after all. I shan't be long." I went upstairs. I didn't dare face that weighing-machine in my clothes after the way in which I had already strained it without them. I took them off hurriedly and stepped on. To my joy the bar stayed in its downward position. I took off an ounce ... then another ounce. The bar remained down.... At eighteen-stone-two I jumped off for a moment in order to shut the window, which some careless housemaid had opened again.... At twelve-stone-seven I shouted through the door to Celia that I shouldn't be long, and that I should want the porridge after all.... At four-stone-six I said that I had better have an egg or two as well. At three ounces I stepped off, feeling rather shaken. * * * * * I have not used the weighing-machine since; partly because I do not believe it is trustworthy, partly because I spent the rest of my leave in bed with a severe cold. We are now in London again, where I am putting on flesh. At least the doctor who slapped me about yesterday said that I must, and I promised him that I would. THE PATRIOT