“JULIA SANBY,” I said, “GAZEY has not got golden hair nor blue eyes, neither is she pretty. You are GAZEY.”

“I swear I ain’t.  I’m a good girl, and knows my colics; GAZEY’s something orful.”

“Very well,” I answered, and went on finishing the sketch, as though I took no interest in her.  After a few seconds’ silence, she added, quite calmly,

“Owdjer know?  I can pretend proper, cawn’t I?  But I ’adn’t never talked about myself as if I was someone else afore.  That pickshur ain’t much like me.”

“It will be when it’s finished.  Come to-morrow at the same time.”

“Do you think I’m a liar?”

“You’re either a liar or an artist, but I’m not sure which.”

GAZEY put on her exceedingly frowsy hat.  “The new curick needn’t a bin so cock-sure about it then.  G’mornin’.”

* * * * *

THE LATEST FROM BOBBY.

(AN INTERCEPTED LETTER.)

Schoolhouse, Swishborough.

Thursday.

[Illustration]

DEAREST DARLING MOTHER,

I was so glad to get the hamper, and it has done me much good, all the fellows were pleased with the cake, and the sardines were first-rate, and the potted stuffs were awfully good.  I am sorry you forgot the bottles of acidulated drops, but you can send them in the next hamper as soon as you like.  There are only sixty-two days to the holidays—­1688 hours including nights!  Isn’t that jolly!

And now, my dear Mother, I want to write most seriously to you upon a matter of great importance.  You know I have been doing “Music” as an “extra.”  Well, it does not agree with me.  The fact is, it is an hour every week in my playtime, when the Doctor says it is good for my health that I should be enjoying myself.  And “Music” is an extra, like “Sausages for breakfast.”  And, of course, one has to think of all that.  How hard dear Papa works to get his living; and, of course, I oughtn’t to waste anything, ought I?  Well, I really think I could give up “Music.”  After all, it’s awful rot, and only fit for a pack of girls!  So this is the great favour I’m going to ask you—­and mind you say “Yes.”  May I give up “Music,” and take up “Sausages for breakfast” instead?

Always your most loving Son, BOBBY.

* * * * *

IF THE FASHION SPREADS.

    SCENE—­Interior of a Fashionable Church.  The Incumbent has
    read the Banns of Marriage between JOHN PLANTAGENET DE SMITH
    and MARY STUART DE BROWN, and asks the usual question.

Counsel (rising in pew).  I beg to object.

Incumbent (surprised, but self-possessed).  You will be good enough to communicate with us in the Vestry, at the end of the service,

Counsel.  But I prefer to raise my objections at once.  I may say, Reverend Sir, that I am here on behalf of Mr. JOHN PLANTAGENET DE SMITH, who is my client.  I am instructed by the Messrs. CAPIAS of Bedford Row, and I contend that since the Members of the London County Council have instructed counsel to appear on their behalf at meetings in which they themselves act judicially, the right extends to Places of Public Worship.