My eyes were opened to it at last. I saw that the establishment was going rapidly downhill. And I could get no real satisfaction from my wife. She would make vague promises of reform; she would undertake to do her best; and she would begin to talk brightly about something else.
And then I wanted to ask the Harrisons to lunch. That brought on the crisis, for I formulated a minimum demand of a leg of mutton or a pair of fowls.
“I don’t see how it’s possible, dear,” said my wife. “I am so sorry.”
“You are keeping something back from me,” said I. “Tell me, whose is the ‘Hidden Hand’ that is running this blockade?”
“It’s Cook.”
“Oh, Cook.”
“Yes, ever since you gave her that awful slanging about patriotism she has been grinding me down more and more. She’s always plotting and scheming and telling me that she must keep the book down for the good of the country. I can see that Jane isn’t getting sufficient nourishment. If I were to propose a pair of fowls for lunch I know that she would say it was her duty to remind me that we were a beleaguered city. And yet I don’t want to discourage her....”
“That’s very awkward,” said I. “What in the world are we to do about the Harrisons?”
“I know,” said my wife suddenly. “Ask them on Saturday. Cook’s going to Plymouth for the week-end to see her son.”
“Oh, good,” said I. “And we will have a blow-out.”
“And we won’t put it down in the book.”
“No, not a hounce of it.”
So that is what we are going to do about the Harrisons. But it doesn’t touch the larger question. Our problem, you will see, is very different from that of other people, and my wife smiles a pale wan smile when she hears her friends endlessly discussing ways and means of keeping within Lord DEVONPORT’S rations. What we want is to discover a means of getting back to that lavish and generous standard of living.
BIS.
* * * * *
CHARADE OF THE RELUCTANT ECONOMIST.
Unconscious that the times are strange,
Enthroned in cushioned ease and quiet,
My first foresees not any change
In his luxurious canine diet.
While I, his master and his lord,
A hearty breakfast-eater reckoned,
No longer at my frugal board
Enjoy the pleasures of my second.
Controllers!—I detest the tribe;
Freedom I hold in deep devotion;
Why should they want to circumscribe
My powers of rapid locomotion?
My whole I can no longer buy,
’Tis useless to attempt to beg it;
And whether it be wet or dry
Three times in four I have to leg it.
* * * * *
“In the Commons
this afternoon Mrs. Macpherson said recent fighting
in Southern Palestine
had resulted in the capture of a Turkish
advanced position.”—Nottingham
Evening Post.