“There,” she said, “that’s that.  And now show me all your new clothes.”

We spent quite a pleasant evening over one thing and another, and I forgot all about the rose-leaves until after she had gone; but when I came back to my empty sitting-room they shone in the dusk with a soft radiance which came, I discovered, from the writing on them.  It glowed like those luminous figures on watches which were so entrancing when they first appeared.  I had never realised before that they were fairy figures.

I spread the petals out on my palm, feeling quite excited at the prospect of making my fortune by such means, though I was a little anxious as to how I was going to make use of the information I was about to acquire.

“I will ask Cousin Fred,” I decided (Cousin Fred being a stockbroker), and I smiled a little to myself as I thought how amazed and possibly amused my dapper cousin would be when he learnt the source of my knowledge.  He might even refuse to believe in it—­and then where should I be?

I needn’t have troubled.  When I unfolded my rose-petals this is what I read:—­

“Stocks.—­The white ones are much the best and have by far the sweetest scent.

Shares.—­Always go shares.”

R.F.

* * * * *

HEART OF MINE.

(Being a rather hysterical contribution from our Analytical Novelist.)

Friday.—­I suppose one never realises till one is actually dead how nearly dead one can be without actually being it.  You see what I mean?  No.  Well, how blithely, how recklessly one rollicks through life, fondly believing that one is in the best of health, in the prime of condition, and all the time one is the unconscious victim of some fatal infirmity or disease.  I mean, take my own case.  I went to see my doctor in order to be cured of hay fever.  He examined my heart.  He made me take off my shirt.  He hammered my chest; he rapped my ribs with his knuckles to see if they sounded hollow.  I don’t know why he did this, but I think he was at one time attached to a detective and has got into the habit of looking for secret passages and false panels and so on.

Anyhow, he suspected my chest, and he listened at it for so long that any miscreant who had been concealed in it would have had to give himself away by coughing or blowing his nose.

After a long time he said, “Your heart’s dilated.  You want a complete rest.  Don’t work.  Don’t smoke.  Don’t drink.  Don’t eat.  Don’t do anything.  Take plenty of exercise.  Sit perfectly still.  Don’t mope.  Don’t rush about.  Take this before and after every meal.  Only don’t have any meals.”  I laughed at him.  I knew my heart was perfectly sound, much sounder than most men’s.  I went home.  I didn’t even have the prescription made up.