Mrs. M'Cranky is one of a numerous class who delight in worrying over preparations for a dinner, and who feel well rewarded when any of the ladies remark that "the table is beautifully laid out," and her excitement was kept up till the guests arrived, when the conversation became general, and every one seemed prepared to laugh at the mildest of jokes; but when the grouse were brought in, three of the ladies felt as if the sword of Damocles was hanging over their heads by a very slender thread. Just before going to the dining-room, Mrs. M'Cranky had a final look into the kitchen to see that all was right, when the cook upset her equilibrium by saying: "Do you know, mum, that the two grouse the master brought in are the same you sent to Mrs. Wallace?" "Nonsense!" said Mrs. M'Cranky; "surely you are mistaken." "The self an' same birds, mum. I knew the string; an' one of them had a little grass sticking under the wing, where it had been bleeding." Mrs. M'Cranky tried to banish the unpleasant thought from her mind, but it would return, as if asking for a solution. "The grouse is very nice," said Mrs. Wilson. "One enjoys it so much at the beginning of the season." "You have Mr. Clark to thank," said the innocent M'Cranky, and three swords fell. Mrs. M'Cranky tried to catch her husband's eye, but he would not look her way, and it was too late, at any rate. Mr. Clark got a warning look from his wife, and though he did not comprehend it fully, he knew he was to say nothing. Mrs. Wallace's cheeks turned red, and she tried to hide her blushes by bending over her plate, feeling she had made Mrs. Clark her enemy. The stereotyped compliment was repeated by everyone on leaving--"Thank you so much for a very pleasant evening"; but a different sentiment was expressed in two of the cabs on the way home. "Well, that was a good spread," said Mr. Wallace, with the satisfied tone of one who is at peace with all mankind. "Don't light that cigar, for any sake; I feel just like to cry; I never was so miserable in my life." "What's wrong?" "What's wrong! Can't you see? Mrs. M'Cranky got back her grouse, and we're all found out." "Ha, ha! well, that's a good one." "Do you think so? I call it just beastly." "M'Cranky does the thing well," said Mr. Clark. "Don't speak about it. I never felt so glad to get out of a house." "How?" "That Mrs. Wallace knows I gave away her grouse, but thank goodness she's found out too." "I don't understand." "No; men are donkeys." "Women are mysteries." M'CRANKY'S DECEPTIONS ABOUT GOLF It is a pity that evil should be mixed with our most healthy and, in themselves, innocent amusements. Some bad men, who are otherwise modest, boast of and exaggerate their achievements, tell of the good things done, and omit the stupid, as in the case of the sportsman of whom it was said, "What he hit was history, what he missed was mystery."