AT GIBRALTAR EN ROUTE 17 



" Don't be so unpleasant about it," retorted the 

 leader of the chorus. " It is too silly to repeat the 

 same thing so often. Much better to go over it once 

 and then trust to luck. What does it matter if we 

 are out of tune ? Nobody expects amateurs to keep 

 in with the music." 



The Major, with studied scorn, waved a signally arm 

 again. 



" Now then, the basses take it up. I should give 

 over trying to warble if I were you, Johnson. You 

 can't expect to get a falsetto tremolo on a fog-horn. 

 Mrs. Stacy, you come down left centre." 



In uninterested fashion the " star " sauntered down 

 the room. 



" I will begin now," she said calmly. " Dying ! The 

 Maori Chief ! I must go to him." 



" You'll have to put a httle more hfe into it than 

 that, you know," interrupted the Major witheringly. 

 " The Maori Chief is your lover, and he's taken 

 poison." 



" Of course, I'll wear the pink dress if you Hke, 

 dear," rang out the Dresden-china lady's staccato. 

 " It wouldn't suit you one little bit, and it would be 

 such a pity if you wore your wrong colour." 



" Thank you so much," returned the globe-trotting 

 widow sweetly, " but I arranged long ago to choose 

 that frock. Everyone says it is the newest tint. I 

 won't dream of letting you sacrifice yourself. It is 

 noble of you, but you'd look a rag in it." 



" I decline to allow you to be so unselfish," the other 

 replied in baulked accents. " It is possible to carry 



