“Are you sure of that?”

“Yes, I’m sure it begins with a ’B’—­or perhaps a ‘W.’  Yes, I’m sure it’s a ‘W’ now.”

“I’m going,” said Francesca with enthusiasm, “to coax that word or thing, or whatever it is, back to the tip of your tongue and beyond it.  So let’s have all you know about it.  Firstly, then, it begins with a ‘W.’”

“Yes, it begins with a ‘W,’ and I feel it’s got something to do with Lord RHONDDA.”

“That doesn’t help much.  So far as I can see, everything now is more or less nearly connected with Lord RHONDDA.”

“But my forgotten thing isn’t bread or meat.  It’s something remoter.”

“Is it Mr. KENNEDY-JONES?” said Francesca.  “He’s just resigned, you know.”

“No, it’s not Mr. KENNEDY-JONES.  How could it be?  Mr. KENNEDY-JONES doesn’t begin with a ‘W.’”

“If I were you, I shouldn’t insist too much on that ‘W.’  I should keep it in the background, for it’s about ten to one you’ll find in the end that it doesn’t begin with a ‘W.’  At any rate we’ve made two short advances; we know it isn’t Mr. KENNEDY-JONES, because he doesn’t begin with a ‘W,’ and we are not very sure that it begins with a ‘W.’”

“Keep quiet,” I said, flushing with anticipation.  “I’m getting it ... your last remark has put me on the track....  Silence....  Ah ... it’s DEVONSHIRE CREAM! There—­I’ve got it at last.  I feel an overwhelming desire for Devonshire cream.”

“The sort that begins with a ‘W.’”

“Well, it’s got a ‘V’ in it, anyhow.”

“And it isn’t Devonshire cream at all.  It’s really Cornish cream—­at least Mary Penruddock says it is.”

“Cornish or Devonshire, that’s what I must have, if Lord RHONDDA’S rules allow it.”

“All right, I’ll get you a pot or two if I can.  But are you sure you won’t forget it again?”

“If I do,” I said, “I can always remember it by the W.’”

R.C.L.

* * * * *

THE CHANGE CURE.

    ["The only way to make domestic service popular is for
    a duchess to become a tweeny-maid.”—­Evening Paper.]

  It may be that a modern Mene, Mene
  Will force the Duchess to become a tweeny;
  But, ere this democratic transformation
  Secures the “old nobility’s” salvation,
  Some other changes are not less but more
  Needful to aid our progress in the War.

For instance, with what rapture were we blest If Some-one gave his nimble tongue a rest And, turning Trappist, stanched the fearsome gush Of egotistic and thrasonic slush; Or if Lord X. eschewed his daily speeches And took to canning Californian peaches; Or if egregious LYNCH could but abstain From “ruining along the illimitable inane” At Question-time, and try to render PLATO’S Republic into Erse, or grow potatoes; Or if our novelists wrote cheerful books, Instead of joining those superfluous cooks Who