MR. SMEETH IS REASSURED 77

marked philosophically. Then she looked mischievous.
"And we can't all look like Mr. Ronald Mawlborough
either."

"Who's he when he's at home?" Mr. Smeeth inquired.

"There you are, you see. Dad, you're not up in these
things. You're behind the times. Matter of fact, you
have seen him, 'cos I remember the two of us seeing him
together, in that picture at the Empire."

"Oh, one of those movie chaps, is he?" Mr. Smeeth
was obviously more interested in pudding than in movie
chaps.

"I should think he is, isn't he, Edna?"

"Oh, do shut up, Mother," cried Edna, crimson now
and wriggling.

"What's this about?"

"He's the latest, isn't he, Edna?" said Mrs. Smeeth
wickedly. "And I must say he's a good-looking young
fellow—curly hair, dark eyes, and all that. Free with
his photographs too. Yours sincerely, Ronald Mawl-
borough, that's him. Nothing stand-offish about him
when he addresses his sweet young admirers—"

"Mother!" Edna screamed, nothing now but two
imploring eyes in a scarlet face.

"That's what comes of not doing your bedroom out,
miss," her mother retorted. "I go up to her bedroom,
Dad, and what do I find? Mr. Ronald Mawlborough,
hers sincerely, on a big photo. You can nearly count his
eyelashes. That's the latest now. Not content with cut-
ting 'em out of these movie papers, they send to Holly-
wood for them. Darling Mr. Ronald, they write, I shall
die if you don't send me your photo, signed in your own
sweet handwriting. Yours truly, Edna Smeeth, seventeen
Chaucer Road, Stoke Newington, England."