"'What on earth is the child talking about?'
"'The catalogue,' I said; 'it's some other year's.'"
At this moment the fallen Art critic entered the conservatory.
"Is that you, Felicity?" he exclaimed. "You're cutting a dance with your own father. I never heard of such a thing."
She sprang up.
"Oh, Papa!" she cried, "I am sorry."
She slipped her arm through his, and as they moved away together I heard her say, with what seemed unnecessary distinctness, "We were talking Art, you know, and that's so dreadfully absorbing."
Commercial Candour.
"It is a matter of surprise in more than one well-appointed household that the best efforts of a skillful chef can produce nothing more acceptable than
——'s Tomato Soup.."—Advt.