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"Silverous forks require lubrication for evening repast," said Ali

reproachfully

Bones stalked on to his study

It was a lovely study, with a carpet of beautiful blue It was a study

of which a s were of silk, and the

suite was also of silk, and also of blue silk He sat down at his

Louis XVI table, took a virgin pad, and began to write The

inspiration was upon him, and he worked at top speed

"I saw a litle bird--a litle bird--a litle bird, floating in the sky,"

he wrote "Ever so high! Its pretty song came down, down to me, and

it sounded like your voice the other afternoon at tea, at tea And in

its flite I reht when you cauerite Whitland had never coht The proprieties had to be observed,

and he changed the last few lines to: "I reate on the sea, on the sea"

He had not seen his book of poee at the end into which the last, and possibly the greatest, o He pulled the drawer open It was e

the fact that that had been the drawer in which the poems had reposed,

because Bones had a very excellentthe bell and Ali came, his Oxford shirt and braces imperfectly

hidden under a jersey which had seen better days

"Ali"--and this time Bones spoke rapidly and in Coast Arabic--"in this