Evening Star Newspaper, May 31, 1925, Page 78

IN THE SPRINGTIME had us mort k tele ith the 1 come a lot ve ever in the w8 the w ally ather, Jeeves ] clement the papers” | ht friction threatening in| Otherwise nothing. | w man I met at the ¥ told me to put my| vateer for 2 o'clock | on. How hout it sir sir “Anything es, las shirt on The enough for me. Jeeves lightly little all but not now i alking shirts,” I said, “have ve ones I ordered arrived| | girl I sent them back.” Sent them back They would not have be Well, I must say I'd thought fairly highly of those shirtings, but I bowed to superior owledge. Weak? T don't know. Most fellows, no doubt, are all for having their valets con fine their activities to creasing trou sers and what not without trying to sun the home: but it's different with me to looked on him as a sort ©f guide, philosopher, and friend “Mr. Little rang up on the tele phone. I informed him that you were not vet awake. i Did he leave a message g He mentioned that he | had & matter of importance to discuss but confided no details.” *“Oh, well, T expect 1 shall be seeing him at the club.” “No doubt, s 1 wasn't what fever of impatience. Bingo a chap I was at school with, and we see a lot of each other still. He's the nephew of old Mortimer Little, who retired from business rec ha goodish pile. (You've probably heard | of Little's Liniment—it limbers up| the legs.) Bingo s ubout London n o pretty ble allowance ven him by his uncle, and leads on re whole a fairly unclouded life. After breakfast I lit a cigarette and and went to the open window to in spect the day. It certainly was one of the best and brightest eeves,” I said r7 said Jeeves You were absolutely the weather. It is a julcy ““Decidedly, sir.” “'Spring and all that.” es, sir.” “In the spring, Jeeves, a livelier irls gleams upon the burnished dove.” o I have been informed, sir.”” “Right ho! Then bring me my whangee, my yellowest shoes, and the ©ld green Homburg. I'm going into the park to do toral dances.” day he c ght call in a Little is you 1 right abot morning * % k% | DO NOT know if you know that | sort of feeling you get on these | days around about the end of April | nd the beginning of May, when the ¢ is a light blue, with cotton-wool | and there i bit breeze ng from the west? Kind of up- ed feeling. Romantic, if you know | hat I mean. I am not much of & | ladles’ man, but on this particular | morning it séemed to me that what I | really wanted was some charming girl | to buzz up and me to save her from assassins or something. So that a bit of an anti-climax when I v ran into young Bingo Little, ng perfectly foul in a crimson tie decorated with horseshoes. Hallo, Bertie,” said Bingo. word, man!” I gargied. Tho gents' neckwear! hat reason the He blushed 1 was given it.” Jeeves tells me vou want to talk to about something.” 1 said. with “The | Why? “1—| a start. for him to unieash the topic of the day, but he did not seem to want to get going s said, after a pause of about an hour and a quarter. “Hallo! Do you like the name Mabe No. ord, like the win usic in the 1 ough the treetops? iing ge: | turned up, when I caught sight of his | plate. THE SUNDAY STAR, Experiences of Bertie, Bingo, Bingo's Ideal, His Uncle and Jeeves. ng Bingo dived like a | i before I had time | say a word we were wedged in at | L tuble, on the Lrink of a silent pool | ¢ coffee left there by an earh I coutdn't quite} uncher. bound to say the development of the| 0. Bingo, while not absolutely | rolling in the stuff, has always had a fafr amount of the ready. Apart from t he got from his uncle, 1 knew he had finished up the jumping n well on the right side of the ‘hy. then, was he lunching rl at this eatery? It couldn’t be because he was hard up | Just then the iwalitress arrived ather a pretty girl. “Aren't we going to walt—" I started 1o say to Bingo, thinking it somewhat thick that, In addition to| girl to lunch with him in a tke this, he should fiing him- on the foodstuffs before she face, and stopped The man was goggling. His entire map was suffused with a rich blush. He looked like the Soul's Awakening done in pink ““Hallo, Mabel”” he said, with a sort of gulp “Tleilo.” said the girl “Mabel,” said Bingo, “‘this is Bertie Wooster, a pal of mine.” “Pleaskd to meet you.” morning.” “ine,” T sald “You see I'm wearing the tie." Bingo. “It she said said suits you beautiful,” said the Personally, if any one had told me | a tie like that suited me I should have risen and struck him on the mazzard, regardless of age and sex: but poor old Bingo simply got all flus- tered with gratification, and smirked in the most gruesome manner. * % % % \WELL, what's it going to be to- day?" asked the girl. introduc- ing the business touch into the conver- sation. Bingo studies the menu devoutly. “T'll have a cup of cocoa, cold veal and ham ple, slice of fruit cake, and a macaroon. Same for you, Bertfe?"” I gazed at the man, revolted. That he could have been a pal of mine all these years and think me capable of insulting the old tum with this sort of stuff cut me to the quick. “Or how about a bit of hot steak- pudding, with a sparkling limado to wash it down”” said Bingo. You know, the way love can change a fellow is really frightful to contem. This chappie before me, who spoke in that absolutely careless way of macaroons and limado, was the man T had eeen in happier days tell- ing the headwaiter at Claridge's ex- actly how he wanted the chef to pre- pare the sole frite au gourmet aux champignons. and saying he would jolly well sling it back if it wasn't just right. Ghastly! Ghastly! A roll and butter and a small coffee seemed the only things on the list that hadn't been speclally prepared by the master-minded members of the Borgia family for people they had a particular grudge against, o I chose them, and Mabel hopped it. “Well?"” sald Bingo rapturously. I took it that he wanted my opinion of the female prisoner who had just left very nice,” T said. He seemed dissatisfied. “You don’t think she’'s the most wonderful girl you ever saw?’ he said wistfully. “On, absolutely™ T sald, to appease the blighter. ‘“Where did you meet her?" besAt a subscription dance at Cam- revell.” “What were you doing at a sub- scription dance at Camberwell?” “Your man Jeeves asked me if I would buy a couple of tickets. It was in aid of some charity or other.” “Jeeves? I didn't know he went in for that sort of thing.” “Well, I suppose he has to relax a bit every now and then. Anyway, he was there, swinging a dashed effcient shoe. T hadn't meant to go at first, but T turned up for & lark. Oh, Bertle, think what I might have missed! “What might you have missed?” I asked, the old lemon being slightly clouded. “Mabel, you chump. If I hadn't gone I shouldn't have met Mabel.” At this point Bingo fell 'into a trance, and only came out of it to wrap himself round the pie and maca- roon. “‘Bertie,” he said, vice. “Carry on.” “At least, not your advice, because that wouldn't be much good to any- bod I mean, you're a pretty con- summate old ass, aren’t you? Not that 1 want to hurt your feelings, of course,” “No, no, I see that.” “What I wish you would do is to put the whole thing to that fellow Jeeves of yours, and see what he sug- gests. You've often told me thaj he s helped other pals of yours out of messes. From what you tell me, he's by of being the brains of the T want your ad- Tadvear 1 stated the case to him that night fter dinn Jeoves.” Are you busy just no “No, sir “T me ticulz No, sir. It is my practice at this hour to read some improving book; but, if you desire my services, can easily be postponed, or, abandoned altogether.” “Well, T want your about Mr. Little." not dolng anything m advice. It's “Young Mr. Little, sir, or the élder | Mr. Little, his unc Pounceby Gardens?" Jeeves seemed to know everything Most amazing thing. I'd been pally with Bingo practically all my lfe, and yet T didn't remember ever having heurd that his uncle lived anywhere in particular. “How did you Pounceby Gardens? 1 said. “1 am on terms of some intimacy with the elder Mr. Little's cook, sir. In fact, there is an understanding. I am bound to say that this gave me a bit of a start. Somehow T had never thought of Jeeves going in fc that sort of thing. “Do you mean you're engaged?” It may be said to amount to that, x%. who lives in now he lived Well, well: She a remarkably exc cook sir.” said Jeeves, as thoug! felt called upon to give some expla on. “What was it you wished ask me about Mr. Little?” 1 sprang the details on him “‘And that's how the matter stands T said. rally 'round a trifle and help poor old Mr. Little. What sort of chap is he?" A somewhat curfous character, sir 8ince retiring from business he has become a great recluse, and now de- votes himself almost entirely to the pleasures of the table.” “Greedy hog, you mean?’ “I would not, perhaps, take the lib- erty of describing him in precisely those terms, sir. He is what usually called a gourmet. Ve ticular about what he cats, that reason sets a high v lent it Tooks to me as though our best plan would be to shoot young Bingo in on him after dinner one night. Melting mood, I mean to say, and all that.” “The difficulty is. sir, that at the moment Mr. Little is on'a diet, owing to an attack of gout.” “Things begin to look wobbly.” No, sir, I fancy that the eider Mr. Little’s misfortune may be turned to the younger Mr. Little's advantage. 1 was speaking only the other day to | Mr. Little’s valet, and he was telling me that it has become his principal duty to read to Mr. Little in the eve- nings. If I were in vour place, sir, I should send young Mr. Little to read to his uncle.” “Nephew's devotion, you mean? Old man touched by kindly action, what?" “Partly, sir. But I would rely more on young Mr. Little's choice of litera- ture.” “That's no good. Jolly old Bingo has a kind face. but when it comes to literature he stops at the Sporting Times.” ““That difficulty may be overcome. T would be happy to select books for Mr. Little to read. Perhaps I might ex- plain my idea further.” “I can't say T quite grasp it “The method which 1 advocate is what, I belleve, the advertisers call “direct suggestion,’ sir, consisting, as it does, of driving an idea home by constant repetition. You ma: had_experience of the system? “You mean they keep on telling you that some soap or other is the best, | and after a bit you come under the influence and charge round the cor- ner and buy a cake? “Exactly, sir. The same method was the basis of all the most valuable propaganda during the recent war. 1 see no reason why it should not be adopted to bring about the desired result with regard to the subject's views on class distinctions. If voung Mr. Little were to read day after day to his uncle a series of narrctives in which marrlage with young percona of an inferfor social tatus was he up as both feasible and admirable, T fancy it would prepare the elder Mr. Little's mind for the reception of the information that his nephew wishes to marry a waltress in a tea-shop.” “Are there any books of that sort nowadays? The only ones I ever see mentioned in the papers are about married couples who find life gray, and can't stick each other at any price.” “Yes, sir, there are a great many, neglected by the reviewers but widely read. You have never encountered ‘All for Love,’ by Rosie M. Banks?” “No." “Nor ‘A Red, Red Summer Rose,’ vet. e an aunt, sir, who owns an complete set of Rosie M. I could easily borrow as many volumes as young Mr. Little might require. They make very light, “T think we ought to | stuff to give the troops. Old Littie had jibbed somewhat at first at the proposed change of literary diet, he not being much of a lad for fiction {and having stuck hitherto exclusively |to the h r monthly reviews; but | Binzo had got chapter 1 of “All for Love' past his guard befo he knew what wa happening, and after that there was nothing to it. Since then |they had finished “A Red, Red Sum- ‘mw Rose,” “Madcap Myrtle” and “Only a Factory Girl,” and were half | way ‘through “The Courtship of Lord Strathmorlick Bingo told me all this in a husky |voice over an egx beaten up in sherry. |The only blot on the thing from his point of view was that it wasn't do bit of good to the old vocal which were beginning to show of cracking under the strain. en lovking his mptoms dical dictionary, and he had got rgyman’s it against this you had set the fact that he was making jan undoubted hit in the right quar- Iter, and also that after the evening's reading he always stayed on to din- ner: and, from what he told me, the | @inners turned out by old Little's cook had to be tasted to be believed. There were tears in the old blighter's eyes D¢ g0t on the subject of the clear 1 suppose to a fellow who for been tackling macaroons it must have been like slgns He bhad 1 |lup in tho Ith sou | weeks had and limado IHeaven ; Old Little wasn't able to give an practical assistance at thege banquet: but Bingo said that he oume to the table and had his whack of arrow- | root. and sniffed the dishes, and told stories of entrees he had had in the past, and sketched out scenarios of what he was going to do to the bill of fare in the future, when the doc- tor put him in shape: so I suppose he enjoyed himself, too, in a way. Anyhow, things seemed to be buzzing along quite satisfactorily, and Bingo said he had got an idea which, he thought, was going to clinch the thing. He wouldn't tell me what it was. but he said it was a pippin. “\We make progress, Jeeves,” I said. “That is very satisfactory, sir.” “Mr. Little tells me that when he came to the big scene in ‘Only a Factory Girl’ his uncle gulped like a stricken bull-pup.” : “Indeed, sir?” “Where Lord Claude takes the girl fn his arms, you know, and says—" “I am familiar with the passa; sir. It is distinctly moving. It a great favorite of my aunt's.” “I think we're on the right track. “It would seem so, sir.” “In fact, this looks like being an- other of your successes. I've always said, and 1 always shall say, that for sheer brain, Jeeves, you stand alone. All the other great thinkers of the age are simply in the crowd, watching you go by “Thank you very much, sir. deavor to give satisfaction.” About a week after this, Bingo blew in with the news that his uncle’s gout had ceased to trouble him, and that on the morrow he would be back at the old stand working away with knife and fork as before. “And, by the wa id Bingo, “he wants you to lunch with him tomor- row." “Me? I exist.” “Oh. 3 about you. *“What have you told him?" “Oh, various things. Anyhow, he wants to meet you. And take my tip, laddie—you go! T should think lunch tomorrow would be something special.”” I don't know why it was, but even then it struck me that there was something dashed odd—almost sinis- ter, if you know what I mean—about young Bingo's manners The old egg had the air of one who has some- thing up his sleeve. “There is more in this than meets the eye,” T said. “Why should your uncle ask a fel- to lunch whom he's never seen?” My dear old fathead, haven't I just said that I've been telling him all about you—that you're my best pal— at school together, and all that sort of thing?" 2 “But even then—and another thing. Why are you 8o dashed keen on my goin Bingo hesitated for a moment. “Well, T told you I'd got an idea. This is it. I want you to spring the news on him. I haven't the nerve myself.” What! I'm hanged if T do!” ‘And you call yourself a pal of mine!” “Yes, T know; but there are limits.” Bertie,” said Bingo reproachfully, I en- Why me? He doesn't know , he does. I've told him lo “Didn’t I? It must have been some other fellow, then. Well, anyway, we were boys together and all that. You can't let me down.” “‘Oh, all right,” I said. “But, when you say you haven't nerve enough for any dashed thing in the world, you misjudge yourself. A fellow who—"" “Cheerio!” said young Bingo. ‘“‘One- thirty tomorrow. Don't be late.” * % ¥ % ‘M bound to say that the more T con- WASHINGTON, D. MAY. 31, By P. G. Wodehouse later T was up in the drawing-room. shaking hands with the fattest man I have ever seen in my life. The motto of the Little family w evidently “varfety.” Young Bingo is long and thin and hasn't had a super- fluous ounce on him since we first met; but the uncle restored the aver- age and a bit over. The hand which grasped mine wrapped it round and enfolded it till T began to wonder if I'd ever get it out without excavating machinery. “Mr. Wooster, I am gratified—I am proud—I am honored It seemed to me that young Bingo must have boosted me to some pur- pose. “Oh, ah!” T said. He stepped back a bit, still hang ing on to the good right hand. “You are very young to have a complished so much! I couMn’'t follow the train of thought. The family, especially my | Aunt Agatha, who has savaged me incessantly from childhood up, have always rather made a paint of the fact ‘that mine is a wasted life, and that, since I won the prize at my first achool for the best collection of wild flowers made during the Sum- mer holidays, I haven't done a thing to land me on the nation's scroll of fame. I was wondering if he couldn't Lave got me mixed up with some. one else, when the telephone-bell rang outside in the hall, and the maid came in to say that I was wanted. zed down, and found it was young Bingo. ““Hall said Young Bingo. vou've got there? Good ma knew I could rely on you. ©ld crumpet, aid my pleased to see you?” ‘“‘Absolutely all over me. e it out.” Oh, that's all right. T just rang up to explain. The fact is, old man, I know you won't mind, but I told him that you were the author of those books I've been reading to him."” “What!" “Yes, I said that ‘Rosie M. Banks’ was your penname, and you didn't want it generally known, because you were a modest, retiring sort of chap. He'll listen to you now. Absolutely hang on your words. A brightish idea, what? T doubt if Jeeves in per- son could have thought up a better one than that. Well, pitch it strong. ©ld lad.; and keep steadily before you the fact that I must have my allow- ance raised. I can't possibly marry on what I've got now. If this film {8 to end with the slow-fade-out on the embrace, at least double is in- dicated. Well, that's that. Cherio!" And he rang off. At that moment the gong sounded, and the genial host came tumbling downstairs like the de- livery of a ton of coals. * ¥ ¥ % ALWAYS look back to that lunch with a sort of aching regret. It was the lunch of a lifetime, and I wasn't in a fit state to appreciats it. Subconsciously, if you know what I mean, I could see it was pretty spe- cfal, but T had got the wind up to such a frightful extent over the ghastly situation in which young Bingo had landed me that its deeper meaning never really penetrated. Most of the time T might have been eating saw- dust for all the good it did me. Old Little struck the literary note right from the start. “My nephew has probably told you that ‘T have been making a ciose study of your books of late?" he be- gan ‘Yes. He did mention it. How—er —how 4id you like the bally things?” 1o gazed reverently at me. “Mr. Wooster, I am not ashamed to say that the tears came into my eyes as I listened to them. It amazes me that a man as voung as you can have been able to piumb human nature so surely to its depth: to play with so unerring @ hand on the quivering heartstrings of your reader; to write novels so true, so human, so moving, 80 vital” “'Oh, it's just g knack,” I said. The good old persp. was bedewing my forehead by this time in a pretty lavish manner. I don't know when I have been so rattled. “Do you find the room a trifle warm?"” “‘Oh, right.” “Then it's the pepper. If my cook has @ fault—which I am not prepared to admit—it is that she is inclined to stress the pepper a trifie in her made dishes. By the way, do you like her cooking?” I was so relieved that we had got off the subject of my literary output that I shouted approval in a ringing baritone. “I am délighted to hear it, Mr. “So 1 1 say. uncle seem I can't no, no, rather not. Just 1 buz-| 1925— PART “MY COOK HAS BEEN WITH ME SEVEN YEARS. AND IN ALL THAT TIME I HAVE NOT KNOWN HER GUILTY OF A SINGLE LAPSE FROM THE HIGHEST STANDARD.” Wooster. 1 may be prejudiced, but to my mind that woman is @ genius.” ““‘Abeolutely’” T said. My cook has been with me seven | years, and in all that time I have not ! known her guilty of a_single mp.-n" | | jis the equal of the finest lady on earth.'" | “°I sat “1 sa up. . Do vou think that? Mr. Wooster. I am ashamed say that there was a time when 1 was, like other men, a slave to the tdiotic convention which we call class But, since I read your from- the highest standard. Except once when a purist might have con- demned a certain mayonnaise of hers |distinction. as lacking in creaminess. But one|books—" must make allowances. There had I might have known it been several air raids about that time, | had done it again. and no doubt the poor woman was| ‘“You think it's all right for a chap- shaken. For seven years I have lived | pie in what you might call a certain in constant apprehension lest some | social position to marry a girl of what evilly disposed person might lure her |you might describe as the lower from my employment. To my certain | classes?" knowledge she has received offers,| ‘‘Most assuredly I do, Mr. Woost lucrative offers, to accept service else’ | 1 took a deep breath, and slipped Tihere. -Tou may judge of my dismay, | him the good mews. r. Wooster, when only this morning | +young Bingo—your nepher, the bolt fell. She gave notice!” Inow—wixits {0inacry & Sitress ‘Good heavens:” said, “Your consternation does credit, if | o] I may say 8o, to the heart of the|piit1e. author of ‘A Red, Red Summer Rose.’ | ~*you don't object?” But I am thankful to say the worst | «On the contrary.” has not happened. The matter has| 1 took another deep breath been adjusted. Jane is not leaving |gshifted to the sordid side of the busi "% Gooa egs!” [ 2o hink I'm b i : I hope you won't think I'm butting Good egg, indeed—though the ex-|in ‘don't you know.” 1 sald, “but—er pression is not familiar to me. I do|_ ‘wel], how about it?" Dot remember having come across it | 1 fear T do not quite follow ¥o in your books. And, speaking of your | «ell, I mean to say, his allowance books, may I say that what has im-|anq all that. The money you're good pressed me about them even more |enough to give him. He was rather than the moving poignancy of the |hoping that you might see your way actual narrative, is your philosophy to jerking up the total a bit."” of life. If there were more men 1ike | Old Little shook his head regret- you, Mr. Wooster, London would be | ¢y} @ better place. o * ¥ ¥ % Jeeves you 1 honor him for it,” said old fear that can hardly be managed. You see, a man In my position is com- "THIS was dead opposite to my Aunt | pelled to save every penny. I will Agatha's philosophy of life, she |gladly continue my nephew’s existing baving always rather given me to|allowance, but beyond that I cannot understand that it is the presence in |go. It would not be fair to my wife.” it of chappies like me that makes| ‘“What. But you're not married?” London more or less of a plague spot; ot yet. But I propose to enter but Rlet it go. upon that holy state almost immedi “Let me tell you, Mr. Wooster, that | ately. The lady who for years has I appreciate your splendid defiance of | cooked so well for me honored me by the outworn fetishes of a purblind |accepting my hand this very morn- social system. I appreciate it. You|ing.” A cold gleam of triumph came are big enough to see the rank is but | into his eye. “Now lét 'em try to the guinea stamp and that, in the | get her away from me,” he muttered, magnificent words of Lord Bletchmore | defiiantly. in ‘Only a Factery Girl,’ ‘Be her “Young Mr. origin ne'er 50 humble, a good woman | ing frequently. Little has been try: during the and | after- noon to reach vou on the telephone, * said Jeeves that night, when I got home “I'll bet he has,” I said. I had sent poor old Bingo an outline of the sit ation by messenger boy shortly afte seemed a trifle agitated.” “I don’t wonder, Jeeves,” I said “so brace up and bite the bullet. I'1 afraid I've bad news for you.” “That scheme of Yours—reading those books to old Mr. Little and ali that—has blown out a fuse.” “They did not soften him “They did. That's the wh trouble. Jeeves, I'm sorry to say that flancee of yours—Miss Watson, know—the cook, you know—well, th long and the short of it is that she's chosen riches instead of honest if you know what I mean."” She’s handed you the mitten and gone and got engaged to old M Lit “Indeed, sir?” ou don't seem much upset “The fact is, sir, I had anticipated some such outcome.” I stared at him earth did you for?” “To tell you the truth, sir, I was not wholly averse from a severance of my relations wjth Miss Watson. In fact, 1 greatly desired it. I re spect Miss Watson exceedingly, but I have seen for a long time that we were not suited. Now, the other young person with whom I have an understanding—"" “Great Scott, another?” “Yes, sir.”” “How long has this been going on?" “For some weeks, sir. I was great- ly attracted by her when I first met her at a subscription dance at Camb. erwell.” “My sainted aunt! Not Jeeves inclined his head gravely “Yes, sir. By an odd coincidence i is the same young person that young Mr. Little—i have placed the cigar ettes on the small table. Good night sir. “Then what on suggest the scheme Jeev There isn't (Copyright, 1925.) Year May Have Thirteen Months, Beginning With Calendar for 1928 BY STERLING HEILIG. PARIS, May 21. T looks really as if we shail have C. Marvin, chief of the United | sist of 4 weeks of 7 days each. Thir States Weather Bureau, has put the teen months must constitute a year | tor earnin nutual convenience of all, as times essence of it in a single short para- grapi of his report: “Since the week and the year are unalterable, necessary units of reck- oning, there is only one way to im- prove and simplify the calendar. The month must be made an exact mul- tiple of the week, and as near as pos- sible an exact submultiple of the year. Happily,” continues Dr. Marvin, ‘‘the numbers 4, 7 and 13 fulfill these | requirements. } disposed | a >,~wn}d.ng are made | equal ust to a We earn wages and pay rent by| Our p the month. Yet our months vary|24 and 2 from 28 to 81 days—I1 ps cent dif-|the n ference. March, at tim has 14 per | will measu cent more earning time than Febru-|4 Saturda ary. Are you paid {t? d “Railwa; Clearing House salaries Mont in Englan says M. B. Cotsworth, | chartered accountant, “and many |g&roc salaries in America are now paid in!ply ou The month must con-'13 perfods of 4 weeks each, to the|income. with one extra day easily of.” attractive reading.’” “Well, it's worth trying.” “1 should certainly recommend the scheme, sir.” “All right, then. Toddle round to your aunt's tomorrow and grab a couple of the fruitiest. We can but have a dash at it.” Precisely, sir.” Bingo reported three days that Rosie M. Banks was goods and beyond a question tenplated the binge, the less I liked it. It was all,very well for Bingo to say that T was siated for a magnifi- cent lunch: but what good is the best possible lunch to a fellow it he is slung out into the street on his ear during the soup course? FHowever, the word of a Wooster is his bond and all that sort of rot, 8o at one- thirty next day I tottered up the steps of No. 16, Pounceby Gardens, and punched the bell. And half a minute ed disappointed cheered up. you we heade t you 13 months in every year, begin- ning with 1928, The French were considered to be slow in pushing calendar re- form. Yet it has just come out that M. Herriot obtained from Mr. Austen Chamberlain, at their interview of March 18, the British agreement to second & French motion that the regu- larized calendar shall actually begin with 1028, and specifying as cardinal requu_}ten- “He's never let me down yet.” “Then put my case to him.” | at case?’ > problem.” y. Who “What problem?” all ¥, you poor fish, my uncie, of 1 realized now that poor old|c¢ g What do )"ou n\h(i}r‘x’k’ ml:‘ s goin hrough it onc incle’s zoing to say to al 8? B0 Tover St Y heve known | T sprang it on him ecld, he'd tie him: were at school together | self in knots on the hearthrug. perpetually falling in “Somehow or other hiz mind has e one, generally n the to be repared to receive the 1 seems to act on him like 8. t how school he had finest f photographs . 221, 284 whereas ir 3 I mont working days, ernoons and 4 later the the love with got Spring, w ne . counting from 1927, an ex- “outside the week.” preceding , January 1, be added to the composing the 52 weeks of each year. 2. “That a second such extra day (leap vear Friday) preceding July 1 be added to each bissextile year. 3. That the four quarters of each year be uniformly composed of two 30-day and one 31-day months, or of 13 months of 28 days, at choice of the league. So, at last, we are getting down to the great change, in facts and dates, not dreams. The Turks prefer a year of 13 uni- form months, bringing the same days of the week to the same 28 dates, in every month alike. Canada prefers the unvarying uniformity of this same j13-month year, which will, among other advantages, permit watches to carry a “day-pointer” hand, showing of week and day of month perpet- ually, as free from complications as the hour or minute hands. It need be reset only once a yvear. ‘Twenty nations, in all, have speci- fied preferences. Some are willing, as a compromise, to retain the 12-month year with uniform quarters—anything to get regularity. All this was in answer to proposals of the league's calendar inquiry com- mittee, appointed in 1922, that the views of all governments reach Ge- neva by March 1, 1924, Since then, adhesions from church authorities aggregate, they say, 75 per cent of all Christians. Also, they have the views of great organizations for labor, women. science, etc.. and molders of opinion like the railroad, shipping, etc., interests. So, the League of Nations was it- self all set for Herrlot's Franco-Brit- ish motion to start the change of cal- endars with 1928. * k¥ % WXLL .the beautiful 13-month-year be adopted, with its financial ad- vantages to trade and its daily com- wveniences to individuals? Nt lot of help, that ‘ah’l.} pretty well dependent | on the old boy. If hé eut off my allow- | ance, 1 should be very much in the| his p. S0 you put the whole binge 1o} eves and see if he can't scare up a POy endin omehow. Tell him my future is in his hands, and that, if | the wedding bells ring out, he can rely on me, cven unto half my king- dom. Well, call it ten quid. Jeeves would exert himself with ten quid on the horizon, at?"” “Undoubtedly,” ““Fhat You see, 1 of actresses’ s and at Oxford rd g at 1 said. “Where A ripe suggestion, ? At the Ritz?” you meeting her? Near the Ritz." Je was geographically accurate. About fifty yurds east of the Ritz there is one of those blighted tea-and. bun shops vou see dotted about all over London, and into this, if you'll P Mt airislrs / R T Citd R Rikg 1’;.‘: THE WORLD'S MOST EXTRAORDINARY CALENDAR REFORM WAS MADE BY THE EMPEROR AUGUS- TUS. HE MOVED FEBRUARY 29 TO AUGUST 31, TO MAKE HIS BIRTH MONTH A LUCKY ONR.