'Tin pans are untrustworthy,' said Gyp. 'This is the best mirror in the world, and that is the reason why it is in the shape of an eye, without any face belonging to it.' 'I should think you would be the last people in the world to want a good mirror, or any mirror at all!' exclaimed Yellow-cap testily. 'We don't want it--and that is why we have it. We call it our eyesore; and it is the eye of our destiny. Look again.' 'What is this?' muttered Yellow-cap. 'All the heads are melting into one another; now they are all swallowed up in the central head; and now that head looks more like me than ever, and yet uglier; and now--why, it looks like the old dwarf I carried across the river, and--which am I?' He turned round, and, behold! the six Brethren were seated each one in his place at the table, smoking and drinking as gravely as ever, and looking as if they had never once stirred from their chairs. Glancing back at the mirror, he saw that it had returned to its former unreflecting condition, only a few vanishing shadows being yet visible in its black depths. 'It certainly is different from a tin pan,' thought he as he went back to his chair at the head of the table. 'Nothing more than an optical illusion,' said Gyp, filling Yellow-cap's pipe from his own tobacco-pouch, and handing it to him courteously. 'There is no harm in it--none at all.' 'Especially as it makes you our Head,' observed Ruba. 'I move we suspend the rules,' said Dubb. 'I second that motion,' said Dubsix. 'We mustn't put our feet into our business,' remarked Menin in an explanatory way. 'The only rule we never suspend is the rule that no rule shall not sometimes be suspended,' added Atub. 'So be it,' said Gyp agreeably. 'The metrical system is hereby suspended for the rest of the evening. Have another tankard of ale, Brother Yellow-cap?' 'I don't care if I do--with a Head on it,' returned Yellow-cap, putting an emphasis on the 'Head.' And when the ale was brought he arose, with a frown on his brow, and spoke to them in a bold voice as follows:-- 'Yes, I am your Head, for no one of you is so unreal as I. When I was a little boy I sat blowing soap-bubbles, and saw the Appanage of Royalty appear amidst the clouds of the wash-tub. He promised me this cap, and now the cap is mine. I have paid for it all I had in the world, and now I mean to get my profit out of it. You have waited for me: I have never waited for you; for I could succeed without you; but, without me, you would be nothing!' 'Hear! hear!' exclaimed the Brethren in chorus, seeming much pleased with Yellow-cap's eloquence. 'Now, Brother Gyp, you may state the object of this meeting,' said Yellow-cap, resuming his seat. Gyp bowed and pulled a roll of parchment out of Brother Dubsix's pocket, which was written all over with musical notes in the bass and treble clefs. 'The object is a twofold one,' he began. 'I object to that expression,' interrupted Dubb. 'Why?' demanded Gyp in a mortified tone.