AN EMBARRASSING QUESTION.
"Why have you got such a Bare Neck, Mummie?"
"I'm going to a Dance, Darling. One has to dress like this for a Dance!"
"Do the Ladies dance in one Room, and the Gentlemen in another, Mummie?"
THE PREMIER'S CRUISE.
Portsmouth, Monday.—Thank heaven! Got rid of politics for a season. Off to Cowes, as guest of Spencer, on board Enchantress. Admirable institution, an Admiralty yacht; reconciles one to Naval Estimates, almost. But there!—must not think of Estimates now. Must try and remember this is a holiday, to get ozone and sleep—especially sleep.
Cowes.—Spencer really very nautical. Talks of fast cruisers and water-tube boilers all the time. Great on torpedo-destroyers. Says the Havoc "goes twenty-five knots an hour." Well then, why can't Harcourt get up the same pace with our Bills? Wish he'd turn into a Parliamentary Havoc. Mention this to Spencer, who laughs, and says, "It's the Opposition who indulge in twenty-five Nots an hour." Believe Spencer means it as a joke. Turn in, and think of Harcourt and Spencer's joke and Twin-Screw Cabinets and Water-veto-boiler Bills. Wretched night!
Portland, Tuesday Morning.—Rather unfair of Spencer. Now he's got me safely on board, he's always trying to persuade me that Navy wants more money spent on it. More money! Refer him to Harcourt, the "inexorable Jorkins." Try to hide from Spencer. No good. He finds me behind a coil of rope on half-quarter-deck—is it half-quarter-deck? Not sure, and don't like to ask—and begins again. Seems he would like a few more millions for guns. Thought we had heaps of guns. Talks about a ship he calls The Hecckler. What a name! Reminds me of every political meeting I've ever attended. Why will Lords of Admiralty give such names? Spencer explains—seems it's Hecla, not Hecckler. Oh! All right. Fear Spencer begins to think me rather a land-lubber. Got me at an advantage here. Wait till I take him to Newmarket Heath!
Off Plymouth.—Down in engine-room. Tell head stoker that House of Lords is an effete institution. Stoker winks. Can he be a Tory? Tell him it's a "gilded prison." Stoker seems surprised, and asks, "Why I don't chuck it up, then?" Curious—no repartee handy. And I am so good at them, generally. Must consult "Fridoline," traduit de l'Anglais de "Happy Thoughts," to see what would be a "repartee to a stoker." Bed. Spencer won't hear of it as bed; talks of "turning-in to his bunk." What an enthusiastic "First Lord" Spencer does make! Thinking of First Lord, wonder who'll be Last Lord? Go on wondering till dawn. What a noise swabbing the deck makes! Wish I were back at the Durdans!