No doubt OLD MORALITY had fathomed depth of ARPACHSHAD’s meditations.  Pretty to see his manoeuvring:  Went down full-sail with assistance of favouring gale; tried to tack back, bearing away to the North; when he’d got a little way, slewed round to the West, going off before the wind to edge of lawn.  Finally borne in upon him that the position was inexorable.  He couldn’t go with the wind all the time; must retrace his steps; by tacking was really covering more ground than need be; was, in fact, doing more work than he had intended.  Shocked at this discovery proceeded to follow ordinary course.  Presently catching sight of solitary leaf careering down walk, fetched broom, and tenderly tickled the gravel in pursuit of the leaf.

“There is,” SARK sharply observed, “nothing ARPACHSHAD enjoys more than dusting the walk with a broom.  It is a process that combines the maximum of appearance of hard work with the minimum of exertion.”

OLD MORALITY pretty lively in anticipation of Session, which opens to-morrow.  Always inclined to take sanguine view of situation.  Doesn’t vary now.  “Oh, you leave it to us, TOBY, dear boy.” he said, when I expressed hope that he would not risk his precious life and health by overdoing it.  “We’ve got a splendid programme, and mean to pull through every Bill.  Didn’t do much last year, it is true:  but don’t you see the advantage of that?  If we’d passed all our Bills last Session, must have arranged a new programme this year, involving considerable labour.  As it is we turn a handle, and there are all the old things once more; homely and friendly; as the poet says, ’All, all, are come, the old familiar faces.’  There’s the Irish Local Government Bill, the Tithes Bill, Employers’ Liability, and a troop of others.  All been brought in before; everybody knows about them; if we don’t pass them this Session they must come up again next.”

“Ha!” said SARK; “so there is to be a next Session.”

“Certainly,” said OLD MORALITY—­“and we would have another, if we could.  In fact, I’m not quite sure whether it may not be managed.  We are always suspending Standing Orders, of one kind or another.  It is a Standing Order of the Constitution that no Parliament shall sit longer than seven years.  Very good—­in an ordinary way, excellent; though, perhaps, a little too liberal in its arrangements when Mr. G. is in power.  But as you, TOBY, may, in earlier years, diligently striving after improvement in caligraphy, have had occasion to note, Circumstances alter Cases.  Here we are, a contented Government, with a Parliamentary majority always to be relied upon.  Why disturb an ordered state of affairs, and plunge the country into the turmoil and expense of a General Election?  Why not bring in a short Bill to suspend the Septennial Act, and let the present Parliament go on sitting indefinitely?  Why should the Long Parliament remain a monopoly of the Seventeenth Century?  I do not mind telling you (this, of course, in confidence) that we have talked the matter over in the Cabinet.  It was the MARKISS who first started it; and, though one or two objections have been raised, the idea is rather growing upon us, and I should not wonder if it came to something.  You will find no mention of it in the Queen’s Speech—­but that is neither there nor here.”