“One minute more,” I said joyfully; “and oh, my boy, how glad I am we brought a bag.  What a splendid idea of yours!  By the way, you haven’t said much lately.  A little tired by the walk?”

“I make it two minutes,” said John.

“Half a minute now....  There!  And may I never carry the confounded thing another yard.”

I threw the bag down and fell upon the grass.  The bag rolled a yard or two away.  Then it rolled another yard, slipped over the edge, and started bouncing down the cliff.  Finally it leapt away from the earth altogether, and dropped two hundred feet into the sea.

“My bag,” said John stupidly.

And that did for me altogether.

“I don’t care a hang about your bag,” I cried.  “And I don’t care a hang if I’ve lost my pyjamas and my best shoes and my only razor.  And I’ve been through an hour’s torture for nothing, and I don’t mind that.  But oh!—­to think that you aren’t going to have your hour—­”

“By Jove, neither I am,” said John, and he sat down and roared with laughter.

A CROWN OF SORROWS

There is something on my mind, of which I must relieve myself.  If I am ever to face the world again with a smile I must share my trouble with others.  I cannot bear my burden alone.

Friends, I have lost my hat.  Will the gentleman who took it by mistake, and forgot to leave his own in its place, kindly return my hat to me at once?

I am very miserable without my hat.  It was one of those nice soft ones with a dent down the middle to collect the rain; one of those soft hats which wrap themselves so lovingly round the cranium that they ultimately absorb the personality of the wearer underneath, responding to his every emotion.  When people said nice things about me my hat would swell in sympathy; when they said nasty things, or when I had had my hair cut, it would adapt itself automatically to my lesser requirements.  In a word, it fitted—­and that is more than can be said for your hard unyielding bowler.

My hat and I dropped into a hall of music one night last week.  I placed it under the seat, put a coat on it to keep it warm, and settled down to enjoy myself.  My hat could see nothing, but it knew that it would hear all about the entertainment on the way home.  When the last moving picture had moved away, my hat and I prepared to depart together.  I drew out the coat and felt around for my—­Where on earth ...

I was calm at first.

“Excuse me,” I said politely to the man next to me, “but have you got two hats?”

“Several,” he replied, mistaking my meaning.

I dived under the seat again, and came up with some more dust.

“Someone,” I said to a programme girl, “has taken my hat.”

“Have you looked under the seat for it?” she asked.

It was such a sound suggestion that I went under the seat for the third time.