And you may go in every room of the house and see everything
that is there, but into the Blue Room you must not go.-The Story of
Blue Beard.

SCENE.-The GADSBYS' bungalow in the Plains. Time, 11 A. M.
on a Sunday morning. Captain GADSBY, in his shirt-sleeves, is
bending over a complete set of Hussar's equipment, from saddle to
picketing-rope, which is neatly spread over the floor of his study.
He is smoking an unclean briar, and his forehead is puckered with
thought.

CAPT. G. (To himself, fingering a headstall.) Jack's an ass.
There's enough brass on this to load a mule-and, if the Americans
know anything about anything, it can be cut down to a bit only.
'Don't want the watering-bridle, either. Humbug!-Half a dozen sets
of chains and pulleys for one horse! Rot! (Scratching his head.)
Now, let's consider it all over from the he-ginning. By Jove, I've
forgotten the scale of weights! Ne'er mind. 'Keep the bit only, and
eliminate every boss from the crupper to breastplate. No
breastplate at all. Simple leather strap across the breast-like the
Russians. Hi! Jack never thought of that!

MRS. G. (Entering hastily, her hand bound in a cloth.) Oh, Pip,
I've scalded my hand over that horrid, horrid Tiparee jam!

CAPT. G. (Absently.) Eb! Wha-at?

MRS. G. (With round-eyed reproach.) I've scalded it aw-fully!
Aren't you sorry? And I did so want that jam to jam properly.