“Oh, nothing,” I said easily.  “The proof of a thing of mine that Punch has accepted.”

They hadn’t a word to say for a few seconds, then Margery began:—­

“Poor old dear, it must be some awful mistake.”

I ignored Margery.

“But, Alan darling, how beautiful!  You’ve been trying for years and years and now at last it has happened.  I do hope it isn’t a mistake,” said Cecilia anxiously.  She was trying to be nice, you know.  I’m sure she was.  I went on with my breakfast.

“Well, John,” said Cecilia, “can’t you congratulate him, or are you too jealous?”

John sighed deeply and pondered.

“Terrible how Punch has gone down since our young days, isn’t it?” he said heavily.

* * * * *

I spent a miserable time until it appeared.  Somehow or other Cecilia let the great glad news get about the village.  Farley, our newsagent and tobacconist, held me when I went in for an ounce of the usual mild.

“So I ’ear you’ve ’ad a article printed by this ’ere Punch, Sir,” he said.  “Somethink laughable it’d be, I suppose like, eh?”

“Not half,” I said, striving hard to impersonate a successful humourist.

“Ah, well, it’s all good for business,” he said, as one who sees the silver lining.  “I’ve ’ad quite a number of orders for the paper for the next two or three weeks.”

I crept from the shop, only to meet an atrocious woman from “The Gables,” who stopped me with a little shriek of joy.

“Oh, Mr. Jarvis, I’ve been dying to meet you, do you know.  I always have thought you so funny, ever since that little sketch you got up for the Bazaar last summer.  I said to my husband when I heard of your success, ‘I’m not surprised.  After that sketch, I knew.’ Do tell me when it’s appearing.  I’m sure I shall simply scream at it.”

I escaped after a time and wondered whether it was too late to stop publication of the horrible thing.

* * * * *

I came down to breakfast and found John with a copy beside him.  I looked at him.

“Yes,” he said, “the worst has happened.  It is in print.  We have been waiting for you to appear.”

He turned the pages and cleared his throat.

“I shall now read the article aloud,” he said.  “Each time I raise my hand the audience will please burst into hearty laughter.”

Margery giggled.

“Cecilia,” I said, rising, “if you don’t control this reptile that you have married, if you don’t force him to hold his peace, if you allow him to read one word, I’ll throw the bread-knife at him and ... and pour my coffee all over the tablecloth.”

“John,” said Cecilia, “have a little thought for others and read it quietly to yourself.”

Cecilia meant well, of course, but Margery giggled again.

John read it to himself in a dead silence, sighed heavily and passed it to Margery.