So generous laymen may haply decide
That it _may_ be worth their while to provide
Each KENNEDY BELL with stepping-stones
To rise to the height of a KENNEDY JONES.
But others, a small and dwindling crew,
Possibly fit, but certainly few,
And cursed with a most pronounced capacity
For suffering from inept vivacity,
Would gladly be reckoned as unenlightened
Could they keep one class of journal un-"brightened."
* * * * *
[Illustration: "MY DEAR, YOU ARE NOT DANCING."
"NO--MOST PROVOKING. I MISLAID MY PARTNER AT PADDINGTON, AND HE HASN'T THE
FAINTEST IDEA WHERE THE DANCE IS."]
* * * * *
THE PASSING OF THE LITTER.
It happened only a couple of weeks ago, but the horrible memory comes back
to me as if it only happened yesterday. It was my own fault, because with a
telephone loose about the place one ought not to encourage other pets.
"Well," I said to Sibyl, "there we are, and we must make the best of them.
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