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THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY.
At supper over at Wantley there was but slight inclination to polite banter. Only the family Chaplain, mindful that this was Christmas Eve, attempted to make a little small talk with Sir Godfrey.
"Christmas," he observed to the Baron, "is undoubtedly coming."
As the Baron did not appear to have any rejoinder to this, the young divine continued, pleasantly.
"Though indeed," he said, "we might make this assertion upon any day of the three hundred and sixty-five, and (I think) remain accurate."
"The celery," growled the Baron, looking into his plate.
"Quite so," cried the Chaplain, cheerily. He had failed to catch the remark. "Though of
