places of mirth and glee, he determined to go to Europe. This
would have the added advantage of enabling him to spend some time
conferring with prohibition leaders abroad as to ways and means of
converting Europe to his schemes of reform. Everyone in the office
showed genuine unselfishness in making plans for the Bishop's
vacation, and he was urged to stay away as long as he felt he
could be spared. Europe, too, was much excited over the prospect
of his coming, and the British prime minister was questioned on
the subject in the House of Commons. For his entertainment on the
voyage a set of twelve beautiful folio volumes, bound in black
morocco, were prepared. They contained a digest of prohibition
legislation which Chuff had been instrumental in having put on the
statutes. For the first time in years the Bishop was cheered as he
passed about the streets, and he realized that he had never known
how popular he was until it was announced that he was going away.

But still he was not content. One morning, not long before the
date set for his sailing, he sat gloomily at his desk. He was
engaged in making his will, and had found to his secret bitterness
that after bequeathing a few personal trinkets to the office staff
there was really no one to whom he could leave the bulk of his
misfortune. Theodolinda, of course, he had quite cut off from his
estate. He only knew that she was living somewhere with the
degraded Quimbleton, carrying on a little psychic tavern which no
laws could reach, in a state of criminal happiness.

From the street, far beneath his open window, he heard the clamor
of a police patrol and leaned eagerly over the sill in the hope of
seeing something that would cheer his black mood. But it was only
a man being arrested for leaning against a lamp-post--a rather