Here Philippa entered.

   'Well, what's the next news, old man?' she said.

   'To Spain, to-morrow!'

   sang sweet Philippa, in childish high spirits.

   I had rarely seen her thus!

   Alas, Philippa's nursery charm against the rain proved worse than unavailing.

   That afternoon, after several months of brave black frost, which had gripped the land in its stern clasp, the rain began to fall heavily.

   The white veil of snow gradually withdrew.

   All that night I dreamed of the white snow slowly vanishing from the white hat.

   Next morning the snow had vanished, and the white hat must have been obvious to the wayfaring man though a fool.

   Next morning, and the next, and the next, found me still in London.

   Why?

   My mother was shopping!

   Oh, the awful torture of having a gay mother shopping the solemn hours away, when each instant drew her son nearer to the doom of an accessory after the fact!

   My mother did not object to travel, but she

    did

   like to have her little comforts about her.

   She occupied herself in purchasing—

   A water-bed.

   A

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