“Ho without!  Summon the guard!” roared the last of the Tudors, and immediately an N.C.O. and six private beef-eaters appeared on the scene.  “Convey Our compliments to the Governor of the Tower,” she continued, addressing the N.C.O., “and bid him confine the Earl of Leicester during Our pleasure.  My Lord,” she added, turning to her luckless partner, “’twere well, methinks, you should have leisure in which to reflect on the folly of trifling with a woman.”

It is greatly to the earl’s credit that at this point he made strenuous endeavours to surrender his sword in accordance with the drill-book, but as it refused to come out of its scabbard he was obliged to unbutton the frog from his belt and hand over the weapon complete with leather gear.  This formality achieved, he was led away to durance vile.

Sir Francis, poor fellow, fared scarcely better than the Earl.  “Begone to sea, Sir Knight,” hissed the queen; “mayhap the Dons will teach you more becoming manners.  Begone, I say, and look to ’t your ships return not empty, else shall you not receive payment of your winnings.”

Sir Francis went.

A glance at the pitiable condition of Sir Walter caused her majesty’s heart to soften somewhat.  “Come, Sir,” she cooed, “an arm, prithee, and We will seek a place where you may read to Us the mummings of this strange bard, will SHAKSPEARE.”

Sir Walter at once regained control of his nerve-centres and escorted her majesty from the painful scene.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  The elusive pest.

John Bull.  “Got him!”

The profiteer.  “I don’t think!”]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Patient. “And you really think there is nothing wrong with my eyesight?”

Oculist. “Nothing at all.  Perfectly normal.”

Patient. “Ah, then it must be the way I’ve been holding my putter.”]

* * * * *

George and the cow-Dragon.

The “rockerty-tockerty-tock” refrain of the carriage-wheels below me changed into a jarring whine as the train came to a full stop.  I looked out on a dim-lit platform which seemed to be peopled only by a squad of milk-cans standing shoulder to shoulder like Noah’s Ark soldiers.

As the engine shrieked and plunged into its collar again the door was jerked open and a man projected himself into the carriage and, opening the window so that the compartment was flooded with cold air, leaned out and resumed his conversation with a friend till the train bore him out of shouting range.  He then pulled up the window, trod on my foot, sat on my lap and eventually came to rest on the seat opposite me.