He leaned back in his chair and said:  “You must take me as I am;” and I replied:  “Yes—­and you must take us as we are.  We’re homely people, we are not swells.”

He answered:  “No, I can see that,” and Gowing roared with laughter; but Merton in a most gentlemanly manner said to Gowing:  “I don’t think you quite understand me.  I intended to convey that our charming host and hostess were superior to the follies of fashion, and preferred leading a simple and wholesome life to gadding about to twopenny-halfpenny tea-drinking afternoons, and living above their incomes.”

I was immensely pleased with these sensible remarks of Merton’s, and concluded that subject by saying:  “No, candidly, Mr. Merton, we don’t go into Society, because we do not care for it; and what with the expense of cabs here and cabs there, and white gloves and white ties, etc., it doesn’t seem worth the money.”

Merton said in reference to friends:  “My motto is ‘Few and True;’ and, by the way, I also apply that to wine, ‘Little and Good.’” Gowing said:  “Yes, and sometimes ‘cheap and tasty,’ eh, old man?” Merton, still continuing, said he should treat me as a friend, and put me down for a dozen of his “Lockanbar” whisky, and as I was an old friend of Gowing, I should have it for 36s., which was considerably under what he paid for it.

He booked his own order, and further said that at any time I wanted any passes for the theatre I was to let him know, as his name stood good for any theatre in London.

April 20.—­Carrie reminded me that as her old school friend, Annie Fullers (now Mrs. James), and her husband had come up from Sutton for a few days, it would look kind to take them to the theatre, and would I drop a line to Mr. Merton asking him for passes for four, either for the Italian Opera, Haymarket, Savoy, or Lyceum.  I wrote Merton to that effect.

April 21.—­Got a reply from Merton, saying he was very busy, and just at present couldn’t manage passes for the Italian Opera, Haymarket, Savoy, or Lyceum, but the best thing going on in London was the Brown Bushes, at the Tank Theatre, Islington, and enclosed seats for four; also bill for whisky.

April 23.—­Mr. and Mrs. James (Miss Fullers that was) came to meat tea, and we left directly after for the Tank Theatre.  We got a ’bus that took us to King’s Cross, and then changed into one that took us to the “Angel.”  Mr. James each time insisted on paying for all, saying that I had paid for the tickets and that was quite enough.

We arrived at theatre, where, curiously enough, all our ’bus-load except an old woman with a basket seemed to be going in.  I walked ahead and presented the tickets.  The man looked at them, and called out:  “Mr. Willowly! do you know anything about these?” holding up my tickets.  The gentleman called to, came up and examined my tickets, and said:  “Who gave you these?” I said, rather indignantly:  “Mr. Merton,