There's for you! But of course this is not enough. The chronicler, try as he might, is but a scamper after all. Not only were there seven customers in the bar, but each had had seven drinks. Whiskey (there are seven letters in whiskey, spelt my way) punch. Each had a slice of lemon and there were seven pips in the lemon. Of the seven uncles each had a watch, making seven watches, and a cigar case, making seven cigar-cases. So it might go on for ever.
Similarly the nine deported Labour leaders arrived in the Thames nine minutes after somebody else and nine minutes before somebody else. The term "dock-berth" has nine letters in it, and Nine Elms is on the Thames too. Whew!
"We find ourselves generally in agreement with the writer Dr. Figgis, so our enjoyment of his books is the keener and less critical. When we do criticise it is as though we found faults in a friend whom we know very well and regard very highly. This position Dr. Figgis has won for himself by the thoroughness as well as the cleverness of his literary work."—Athenæum.
Dr. Figgis must be a proud man to-day.
INTERVIEWING FATHER.
Sir George is not a nice man. He is a mercenary, narrow-minded person. I never really liked him, but then he never really liked me. However, he is Miranda's father, so I decided to interview him. The interview took place at his office. He waved me to a chair, and, as it seemed all that I was likely to get, I took it.
"Well?" Sir George grunted.