themselves billeted into padded cells and confronted by rows of
strait-jackets. Moreover, the Home had lain unused for many
months: it was dusty, dilapidated, and of a moldy savor. Some of
the unwilling visitors, finding that the grounds included a strip
of sandy beach, took their ordeal with reasonable philosophy.
"Since we are to be slaves," they said, "at least let's have some
serf bathing." And donning (with a shudder) the rather gruesome
padded bathing suits they found in the lockers, they went off for
a swim. Others, of a humorous turn, derived a certain rudimentary
amusement in studying the garden marked Reserved for Patients with
Insane Delusions, where they found a very excellent relief-model
of the battleground of the Marne, laid out by a former inmate who
had imagined himself to be General Joffre. But most of them stood
about in groups, talking bitterly.

Quimbleton, therefore, found a receptive audience for his
Spartacus scheme of organizing this band of downtrodden victims
into a fighting force. He gathered them into the dining-hall of
the Home and addressed them in spirited language.

"My friends" (he said), "unaccustomed as I am to public speaking,
I feel it my duty to administer a few remarks on the subject of
our present situation.

"And the first thought that comes to my mind, candidly, is this,
that we must give Bishop Chuff credit for a quality we never
imagined him to possess. That quality, gentlemen, is a sense of
humor. I hear some dissent; and yet it seems to me to be somewhat
humorous that this gathering, composed of men who were accustomed,
in the good old days, to carry their liquor like gentlemen, should