Wire to him, and hand him over the money I’ve already received, also ask him to start a “universally beneficent” branch of Salvation Army.  Receive reply, accepting my offer, in no time!  General adds that he has a staff appointment in his Army waiting for me, and that he would like my good lady to become a Salvation Lass.  Requires consideration and—­hem—­consultation!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  EASY FOR THE JUDGES.

Geoffrey (to rejected Candidate for honours at the Dog Show).  “NEVER MIND, SMUT!  WE’LL HAVE A DOG SHOW THAT SHALL BE ALL CATS EXCEPT YOU, AND THEN YOU’LL HAVE IT ALL YOUR OWN WAY!”]

* * * * *

VOCES POPULI.

AT THE PASTEL EXHIBITION.

IN THE ANTE-ROOM.

A Niece.  Just one moment, Auntie, dear; do look and see what No. 295 is!

Her Aunt (with a Catalogue—­and a conscience).  Two hundred and ninety-five!  Before we have even seen No. 1?  No, my dear, no.  Let us take things in their proper order—­or not at all. (Perambulates the galleries for some minutes, refraining religiously from looking at anything but the numbers.) Ah, here it is—­Number One! Now, ETHEL, I’m ready to tell you anything you please!

First Matter-of-Fact Person.  Ah, here’s another of the funny ones! [Is suddenly seized with depression.

Second M.-of-F.P. Y-yes. (Examines it gloomily.) What’s it all about?

First M.-of-F.P. (blankly).  Oh, well, it’s a Pastel—­I don’t suppose it’s meant to be about anything in particular, you know.

The Conscientious Aunt (before No. 129). “The Sprigged Frock”?  Yes, that must be the one.  I suppose those are meant for sprigs—­but I can’t make out the pattern.  She might have made her hair a little tidier—­such a bush! and I never do think blue and green go well together, myself.

    [They come to a portrait of a charming lady in grey, by Mr.
    SOLOMON.

The Niece (with a sense of being on firm ground at last).  Why, it’s ELLEN TERRY!  See if it isn’t, Auntie.

The C.A. (referring to Catalogue).

  “The leaves of Memory seemed to
  Make a mournful rustling.”

—­that’s all it says about it.

The Niece (finding a certain vagueness in this as a description).  Oh!  But there are no leaves—­unless it means the leaves in the book she’s reading.  Still I think it must be ELLEN TERRY; don’t you?

The C.A. (cautiously.) Well, my dear, I always think it’s as well not to be too positive about a portrait till you know who it was painted from.

[The Matter-of-Fact Persons have arrived at a Pastel representing several green and yellow ladies seated undraped around a fountain, with fiddles suspended to the branches above.

Second M.-of-F.P. “Marigolds,” that’s called.  I don’t see any though. [With a sense of being imposed upon.