That evening, being then dispersed,
  I swear (as I had sworn it first
  When three of us went on the burst
    With Aunt, or Great-Aunt, Alice),
  “Although one finds, as man or boy,
  A thousand pleasures to enjoy,
  For happiness without alloy
    Give me the Crystal Palace!”
                                A.A.M.

* * * * *

COAL-DUST.

“Had a good day?” said Frederic cheerily, stamping the snow off his boots as I met him at the front-door.

“That depends,” I said, “on what you call a good day.”

“You haven’t been dull?” said Frederic.

“Oh, no,” I said, indicating the comforting blaze as I pushed Frederic’s chair to the fire; “behold the result of my day’s labours in your behalf.  Your hot bath and hot breakfast, dear, were just camouflage to keep from you, the centre of gravity, our desperate straits.  When I went to give Cook her orders this morning I found her as black as a sweep and in a mood to correspond.  She pointed to a few lumps of coal in the kitchen scuttle and said, ’I’ve sifted all that dust in the cellar, Ma’am, and these are the only lumps I could find.  There’s only enough to cook one more dinner.’”

“My dear girl,” said Frederic, “why wait till there is no coal before ordering more?”

“Hear me,” I cried.  “A fortnight ago I ordered some.  The man asked, ‘Have you any coal?’ I said I had a little.  He said, ’You are lucky to have any.  Dozens of people have no coal at all.  I can promise nothing.’

“A week ago I went again.  ‘Have you any coal?’ he asked.  ’Still a very little,’ I said faintly.  ‘Hundreds of people,’ he said, ’have no coal at all, I can promise you nothing.’

“’Well, after I had spent an hour this morning distributing whiffy oil-lamps all over the house, I went again to the coal merchant.  He froze me with a look.  ‘When can you send in my coal?’ I tried to say it jauntily, but my teeth chattered.  ‘Have you no coal?’ he said, and his frigid eye pierced me.  ’O-o-only a little dust, which, has been at the bottom of the cellar for two years—­drawing-room coal dust,’ I added eagerly, ‘which cannot be used on the kitchen fire.’  ‘You are lucky,’ he said, ’to have that.  There are thousands of people in this town with no coal at all.  We can promise you nothing.’

“I came home, and after luncheon, donning my Red Cross uniform, I told Mary that if people called she could show them into the coal-cellar, where I should be; and, armed with a garden-fork, I proceeded thither and dug diligently for a whole hour.  I know now exactly why a hen clucks when she has laid an egg.  Every time I found a lump—­and I found as many as six—­I simply had to call Cook and Mary to come and see.”

“What fun!” murmured Frederic comfortably.