wait! Wait ten years, till you take on flesh, and the doctor puts you on diet, and you stop hunting chances to kill yourself, but play golf like me. Then, my boy, when you look stolid you won’t be romantic. You’ll be stodgy, my boy. That’s what you’ll be!”      

       Of all words in the dictionary there is surely none worse than this one. The suggestions of stodginess are appalling, including, even at best, hints of overweight, general uninterestingness, and a disposition to sit at home in smoking-jacket and slippers after one’s evening meal. As my guardian suggested, my first youth was over. I held up both my hands in token that I asked for grace.     

       “Kamerad!” I begged pathetically. “Come, Dunny, let’s be sociable. After all, you know, it’s my last evening; and if you call me such names, you will be sorry when I am gone. By the way, speaking of Huns—it was you, the neutral, who mentioned them,—does it strike you there are quite a few of them on the staff of this hotel? I hope they won’t poison me. Look at the head waiter, look at half the waiters round, and see that blond-haired, blue-eyed menial. Do you think he saw his first daylight in these United States?”      

       The menial in question was a uniformed bellboy winding in and out among tables and paging some elusive guest. As he approached, his chant grew plainer.     

       “Mr. Bayne,” he was droning. “Room four hundred and three.”      

       I raised a hand in summons, and he paused beside my seat.     

       “Telephone call for you, sir,” he informed me.     

       With a word to my guardian, I pushed my chair back and crossed the room. But at the door I found my path barred by the maitre d’hotel, who, at the sight of my progress, had sprung forward, like an arrow from a bow.     

       “Excuse me, sir. You’re not leaving, are you?” The man was actually breathing hard. Deferential as his bearing was, I saw no cause for the inquiry, and with some amusement and more annoyance, I wondered if he suspected me of slipping out to evade my bill.     

       “No,” I said, staring him up and down; “I’m not!” I passed down the hall to the entrance of the telephone booths. Glancing back, I could see him still standing there gazing after me; his 

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