Haverton? Oh! Yes!
I think it is.... I'll see--I'll ask Matilda.
(_A pause, during which the_ REV. A. HAVERTON
_is in a qualm_.)
MISS GROSVENOR (_rustling back_): Matilda says it
_is_ the bell for prayers.
(_They all come filing into the study and arranging the chairs.
As they enter_ MISS HARVEY, _the guest, treads heavily on
MATILDA'S foot._)
MISS HARVEY: Matilda? Was that you? I _beg_ your pardon.
MATILDA (_limping_): Granted, I'm sure, miss!
MRS. HAVERTON (_whispering to the_ REV. A. HAVERTON): Do not read
the Creed!
Miss Harvey is a Unitarian.
I should suggest some simple form of prayer,
Some heartfelt word of charity and peace
Common to every Christian.
REV. A. HAVERTON (_in a deep voice_): Let us pray.
_Curtain._
ON A NOTEBOOK
A dear friend of mine (John Abdullah Capricorn, to give him his full
name) was commandeered by a publisher last year to write a book for L10.
The work was far advanced when an editor offered him L15 and his expenses
to visit the more desperate parts of the Sahara Desert, to which spots he
at once proceeded upon a roving commission. Whether he will return or no
is now doubtful, though in March we had the best hopes. With the month of
May life becomes hard for Europeans south of the Atlas, and when my poor
dear friend was last heard of he was chancing his popularity with a tribe
of Touaregs about two hundred miles south of Touggourt.
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