impossible yarn," said the young man presently,with a
suggestion of resentment in his voice.

"Not at all impossible," said Gortsby judicially; "I
remember doing exactly the same thing once in a foreign

capital, and on that occasion there were two of us, which
made it more remarkable. Luckily we remembered that the

hotel was on a sort of canal, and when we struck the
canal we were able to find our way back to the hotel."

The youth brightened at the reminiscence. "In a
foreign city I wouldn't mind so much," he said; "one

could go to one's Consul and get the requisite help from
him. Here in one's own land one is far more derelict if

one gets into a fix. Unless I can find some decent chap
to swallow my story and lend me some money I seem likely

to spend the night on the Embankment. I'm glad, anyhow,
that you don't think the story outrageously improbable."

He threw a good deal of warmth into the last remark,
as though perhaps to indicate his hope that Gortsby did

not fall far short of the requisite decency.
"Of course," said Gortsby slowly, "the weak point of

your story is that you can't produce the soap."
The young man sat forward hurriedly, felt rapidly in

the pockets of his overcoat, and then jumped to his feet.
"I must have lost it," he muttered angrily.

"To lose an hotel and a cake of soap on one
afternoon suggests wilful carelessness," said Gortsby,

but the young man scarcely waited to hear the end of the
remark. He flitted away down the path, his head held

high, with an air of somewhat jaded jauntiness.
"It was a pity," mused Gortsby; "the going out to

get one's own soap was the one convincing touch in the
whole story, and yet it was just that little detail that

brought him to grief. If he had had the brilliant
forethought to provide himself with a cake of soap,

wrapped and sealed with all the solicitude of the
chemist's counter, he would have been a genius in his

particular line. In his particular line genius certainly
consists of an infinitecapacity for taking precautions."

With that reflection Gortsby rose to go; as he did
so an exclamation of concern escaped him. Lying on the

ground by the side of the bench was a small oval packet,
wrapped and sealed with the solicitude of a chemist's

counter. It could be nothing else but a cake of soap,
and it had evidently fallen out of the youth's overcoat

pocket when he flung himself down on the seat. In
another moment Gortsby was scudding along the dusk-

shrouded path in anxious quest for a youthful figure in a
light overcoat. He had nearly given up the search when

he caught sight of the object of his pursuit standing
irresolutely on the border of the carriage drive,

evidentlyuncertain whether to strike across the Park or
make for the bustling pavements of Knightsbridge. He

turned round sharply with an air of defensive hostility
when he found Gortsby hailing him.

"The important witness to the genuineness of your
story has turned up," said Gortsby, holding out the cake

of soap; "it must have slid out of your overcoat pocket
when you sat down on the seat. I saw it on the ground

after you left. You must excuse my disbelief, but
appearances were really rather against you, and now, as I

appealed to the testimony of the soap I think I ought to
abide by its verdict. If the loan of a sovereign is any

good to you - "
The young man hastily removed all doubt on the

subject by pocketing the coin.
"Here is my card with my address," continued

Gortsby; "any day this week will do for returning the
money, and here is the soap - don't lose it again it's

been a good friend to you."
"Lucky thing your finding it," said the youth, and

then, with a catch in his voice, he blurted out a word or
two of thanks and fled headlong in the direction of

Knightsbridge.
"Poor boy, he as nearly as possible broke down,"

said Gortsby to himself. "I don't wonder either; the
relief from his quandary must have been acute. It's a

lesson to me not to be too clever in judging by
circumstances."

As Gortsby retraced his steps past the seat where
the little drama had taken place he saw an elderly

gentleman poking and peering beneath it and on all sides
of it, and recognised his earlier fellow occupant.

"Have you lost anything, sir?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, a cake of soap."

A TOUCH OF REALISM
"I HOPE you've come full of suggestions for

Christmas," said Lady Blonze to her latest arrived guest;
"the old-fashioned Christmas and the up-to-date Christmas

are both so played out. I want to have something really
original this year."

"I was staying with the Mathesons last month," said
Blanche Boveal eagerly, "and we had such a good idea.

Every one in the house-party had to be a character and
behave consistently all the time, and at the end of the

visit one had to guess what every one's character was.
The one who was voted to have acted his or her character

best got a prize."
"It sounds amusing," said Lady Blonze.

"I was St. Francis of Assisi," continued Blanche;
"we hadn't got to keep to our right sexes. I kept

getting up in the middle of a meal, and throwing out food
to the birds; you see, the chief thing that one remembers

of St. Francis is that he was fond of the birds. Every
one was so stupid about it, and thought that I was the

old man who feeds the sparrows in the Tuileries Gardens.
Then Colonel Pentley was the Jolly Miller on the banks of

Dee."
"How on earth did he do that?" asked Bertie van

Tahn.
" 'He laughed and sang from morn till night,' "

explained Blanche.
"How dreadful for the rest of you," said Bertie;

"and anyway he wasn't on the banks of Dee."
"One had to imagine that," said Blanche.

"If you could imagine all that you might as well
imagine cattle on the further bank and keep on calling

them home, Mary-fashion, across the sands of Dee. Or you
might change the river to the Yarrow and imagine it was

on the top of you, and say you were Willie, or whoever it
was, drowned in Yarrow."

"Of course it's easy to make fun of it," said
Blanche sharply, "but it was extremely interesting and

amusing. The prize was rather a fiasco, though. You
see, Millie Matheson said her character was Lady

Bountiful, and as she was our hostess of course we all
had to vote that she had carried out her character better

than anyone. Otherwise I ought to have got the prize."