"Give me the writing-block," I said shortly, producing my
fountain-pen. I turned to Daphne. "What sort of a bath d'you
want?"

"Porcelain-enamel, they call it, don't they?" she replied
vaguely, subjecting a box of chocolates to a searching
cross-examination.

Berry rose to his feet and cleared his throat. Then he sang
lustily :

"What of the bath?"
The bath was made of porcelain,
Of true ware, of good ware,
The ware that won't come off"

A large cushion sailed into his face. As it fell to the ground,
Berry seized it and held it at arm's length.

"Ha," he said rapturously. "A floral tribute. They recognize my
talent."

"Not at all," said Jonah. "I only threw that, because the dead
cats haven't come."

"Exactly," said I. "We all know you ought to be understudying at
the Hoxton Empire, but that's no reason why we should be
subjected- "

"Did you notice the remarkable compass of my voice?" said Berry,