Rather hungry.  Enter a restaurant.  Crowded with gentlemen wearing hats—­who seem to be on intimate terms with the waiters.  Get a bill of fare which is thrust into my hands by an attendant loaded with dishes.  Let me see—­what shall I have?  “Lamb’s head and peas.”  Have never tried this dish.  Might be good.  Waiter (who seems to be revolving, like the planetary system, in an orbit) reaches me, and I shout what I want.  He replies, “Sorry, Sir, just off,” and vanishes.  Look up something else.  “Liver and bacon.”  Not had it for years!  Used to like it.  On reappearance of the planetary waiter, give my order.  He nods and vanishes.  Wait patiently.  Rather annoyed that my nearest neighbour has used my part of the table for a dish containing broad beans.  Glare at him.  No result.  Planetary waiter has passed me twice—­stop him angrily the third time.  He is less busy now—­he pauses.  He thrusts bill of fare before me, and asks me “what I would please to want.”  Explode and shout in tones of thunder, “Liver and bacon!” He disappears, and comes back a few minutes later, saying, “Very sorry, but when I first ordered it, liver and bacon was on—­now it’s off.  Will I have a chop?” Reply angrily, “No.”  Same answer to “Steak,” “Duck and green peas,” “A cut off the beef joint,” and “Irish stew.”  Waiter asks (with forced civility), “What will I have!” I return, as I leave the restaurant, “Nothing!” On regaining the street (although hungry) I am pleased to think that I am still obeying Dr. MORTIMER GRANVILLE’s directions!

No use trying cab or omnibus.  Both failures.  Why not walk?  Good way of wasting time, so begin to go northward, and in due course get to Bloomsbury.  Enter Museum.  Umbrella seized.  Approach Reading Room.  Civil attendant informs me that the Library is closed—­taking stock, or something!  Then I have come all this way for nothing!  Angry, but inwardly contented.  Doing nothing “very thoroughly!”

[Illustration]

Turn back.  Why not go to a theatre?  Certainly.  Go to four in succession, and find them all closed!  Well, good way of wasting time, Shall I visit one of the Exhibitions?  Chelsea or Earl’s Court?  After consideration, come to the conclusion that this would be worse than doing nothing.  Must draw the line somewhere!

After all, there is no place like home.  Or shall I go to my Club?  Yes.  Get there.  Find it is being repaired, and that the members are taken in somewhere else.  Hate new scenes and new faces.  Return to my first idea, and make for my private address; but feel that it may be rather dull, as my wife and the children are at the seaside.  Still, somebody can get me a little supper.  At least, I hope so.  Find my latch-key is of no use, on account of the chain being up.  Ring angrily, when a charwoman in a bonnet appears, and explains that the servants, not expecting me home so early, have gone to the play, having locked up the larder.  Charwoman agrees with me that it is disgraceful—­especially the locking up of the larder.