Mrs. Perry received me almost with open arms.
"We must try and find you some really good partners," she announced enthusiastically.
It was then close upon midnight. For the two hours of the dance that remained I was the man of the evening.
_Old Lancashire Lady_ (_to young lady friend who has expressed her intention of going by an excursion to the Metropolis_). "DOAN'T THEE GOA TO LONDON; THEE STOP IN OWD ENGLAND."]
"The destroyers patrolling the Irish coast are being boarded and searched for rifles by order of the Admiralty."--_Daily Express._
[Illustration: _Little Maid_ (_to new owner of country cottage_) "OH, IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, HERE'S THE CHAIRMAN OF THE LITTLE CHIPPINGHAM AND WEST HAMBLETON STREET LIGHTING COMMITTEE." (_Confidentially_) "IT'S REALLY ONLY MR. BINKS, THE BUTCHER."]
Happy the man who brushes up his topper And sallies forth to call upon a maid, Knowing his converse and his coat are proper, That, come what may, he will not be afraid, Not lose his nerve, and yawn, or tell a whopper, Or drop the marmalade.
Not such the bard; not thus--but Clotho (drat her) Was wakeful still, and plied a hostile loom-- I sought Miss Pritt. She mooted some grave matter And looked for light; my lips were like the tomb, Sealed, though they say they heard my molars chatter Up in the smoking-room.
Cold eyes regarded me. My front-stud fretted; A stiff slow smirk belied my deep unrest; My tea-cup trembled and my cake was wetted; My beauteous tie worked round toward the West; My brow--forgive me, but it really sweated; I did not look my best.
To Zeus, that oft would make a mist and smother Some swain beset, and screen him from the crowd, I prayed for vapours; but his mind was other: Yet was I answered, though the god was proud, For, anyhow, I trod on Miss Pritt's mother And left beneath a cloud.
Not to return. O'er fair free hills and valleys I can converse and carry on _ad lib._; On active tennis-courts (between the rallies) I can be confident, and none more glib; But not in drawing-rooms my bright star dallies-- I'm not that sort of nib.
We'll meet no more; but I shall send some token Of what I'm worth outside the world of teas-- A handsome photograph, some smart things spoken, A few sweet verses (not so bad as these), And hockey-groups that show me stern and oaken And nude about the knees.