(_A Fragment from the Chronicles of St. Stephen's._)
"But must I give up this comfortable furniture?" asked the poor
person, looking at the venerable chairs, some of which were distinctly
rickety.
"You must, indeed," replied firmly, but still with a certain
tenderness, the stern official.
"But I can _nearly_ hear what they are saying," urged the fair
petitioner.
"I cannot help it."
"And _all_ but see them," and once again she peered through the
grille.
"I am forced to obey my orders," returned the official. "You
applauded. You clapped your hands--and you must retire."
"And for that little burst of enthusiasm," almost wept the person,
"I am to lose all this happiness! To be stopped from hearing an
indistinct murmur, seeing a blurred picture, resting on rickety seats,
and breathing a vitiated atmosphere! Am I to lose _all_ these comforts
and pleasures and advantages?"
"I am afraid so," was the answer. And then the official opened the
door of the Ladies' Gallery of the House of Commons, and the person
passed out.
* * * * *
[Illustration: ALL THE DIFFERENCE.
_Lord W-ls-l-y_ (_to Commander-in-Chief_). "IN SEPTEMBER I HAVE TO
RETIRE FROM MY COMMAND."
_Duke._ "DEAR ME! _I_ HAVEN'T!"]
* * * * *