Winkins's wife is come back now—
After the Poll!
Of course, I should have destroyed the card at once—but I was out when it came, and Maria read it first! What happened was a good instance of the monstrous way in which one man's sin is another man's punishment. In this case (1) it was my wife who had persisted in going away, and (2) it was an unknown post-cardist who had written the insulting doggerel. Yet I paid the entire penalty.
The great puzzle—who is the seventh councillor?—is still unsolved. All that has happened so far is that Mrs. Letham Havitt and Mrs. Arble March are no longer on speaking terms. It has leaked out that Mrs. March had more plumpers than Mrs. Havitt, whereupon ructions—as Jacky, who has just come home for the Christmas holidays says. I think he's quite right.
Our Parish Council meets next Monday—on the 7th. With the New Year we commence our reign of beneficent activity. I need hardly say that it is certain that I am to be Chairman. My position on the poll suggests it, common decency demands it, moreover I expect it. I refuse to believe that I shall be disappointed.
A GLAD NEW YEAR.
A Reflecting Roundel.
"A Glad New Year!" Why, bless my heart, how fast
The time flies by! The year's no sooner here