"You're sure of immortality now, John," said Joe.

"I wouldn't wonder if it's good enough for Punch," said Mr. Gillespie.

"Such laudation warms the cockles of my heart, ladies and gentlemen," declared Said Mohammed, beaming. "But the poem is not destined to be squandered on profanum vulgus: it is strictly for private consumption."

"Have some copies printed, Mr. Mohammed," said Mrs. Burtenshaw. "I'll pay the bill."

"Your esteemed order, madam, shall be punctually attended to. And now, with excuses, I beg to be allowed to retire to my own place--to return to my muttons, as it were: or in other words, to wash the dishes."

And with profound salaams he withdrew.

————

By the last advices from Nairobi I learn that the Hallidays' farm in Kenya is exceedingly prosperous. Mr. Halliday received his lease, and was recently mentioned in a Government report as one of the most enterprising and successful settlers in British East Africa. Mrs. Burtenshaw regards this testimonial as unfair, since Mr. Halliday is only a figurehead, and John does the work; but, as Mr. Gillespie says, nobody cares a pin for what appears in a Government report.

There are two other farms adjoining Alloway, one owned by Charles Ferrier, the other by the two Brownes. It is rumoured that, as lions and other wild-fowl have now disappeared from the vicinity, two of the three farms will soon be graced by the presence of ladies; but there seems to be some speculation at tea-tables in Nairobi as to whether Hilda Ferrier will become Mrs. Joseph Browne or Mrs. David Halliday. Knowing John, I should say that there is no doubt about the matter. Mr. Gillespie advises Helen Browne to change her name to Ferrier at the same time: he is a firm believer in economy. Said Mohammed is anxiously awaiting definite information, for he says that he cannot set to work on his nuptial ode in honour of the occasion until he knows which is which; then he will show us all what's what. My own opinion is that he will be so busy in erecting a wedding-cake of suitable proportions as to have no leisure to build the lofty rhyme. Meanwhile he has learnt Spenser's "Epithalamium" by heart, and is convinced that, with due inspiration, he will knock it into a cocked hat.

THE END