I have often thought that Who's Who, though a bulky and well-meaningvolume, omits too many of England's greatest men. It is notcomprehensive enough. I am in it, nestling among the G's:--"Garnet, Jeremy, o.s. of late Henry Garnet, vicar of Much Middlefold,Salop; author. Publications: 'The Outsider,' 'The Manoeuvres ofArthur.' Hobbies: Cricket, football, swimming, golf. Clubs: Arts."But if you search among the U's for UKRIDGE, StanleyFeatherstonehaugh, details of whose tempestuous career would makereally interesting reading, you find no mention of him. It seemsunfair, though I imagine Ukridge bears it with fortitude. That much-enduring man has had a lifetime's training in bearing things withfortitude.

　　He seemed in his customary jovial spirits now, as he dashed into theroom, clinging on to the pince-nez which even ginger-beer wire rarelykept stable for two minutes together.

　　"My dear old man," he shouted, springing at me and seizing my hand inthe grip like the bite of a horse. "How /are/ you, old buck? This isgood. By Jove, this is fine, what?"He dashed to the door and looked out.

　　"Come on Millie! Pick up the waukeesis. Here's old Garnet, lookingjust the same as ever. Devilish handsome fellow! You'll be glad youcame when you see him. Beats the Zoo hollow!"There appeared round the corner of Ukridge a young woman. She pausedin the doorway and smiled pleasantly.

　　"Garny, old horse," said Ukridge with some pride, "this is /her/! Thepride of the home. Companion of joys and sorrows and all the rest ofit. In fact," in a burst of confidence, "my wife."I bowed awkwardly. The idea of Ukridge married was something toooverpowering to be readily assimilated.

　　"Buck up, old horse," said Ukridge encouragingly. He had a painfulhabit of addressing all and sundry by that title. In his school-masterdays--at one period of his vivid career he and I had been colleagueson the staff of a private school--he had made use of it interviewingthe parents of new pupils, and the latter had gone away, as a rule,with a feeling that this must be either the easy manner of Genius ordue to alcohol, and hoping for the best. He also used it to perfectstrangers in the streets, and on one occasion had been heard toaddress a bishop by that title, rendering that dignitary, as Mr. BabooJaberjee would put it, /sotto voce/ with gratification. "Surprised tofind me married, what? Garny, old boy,"--sinking his voice to awhisper almost inaudible on the other side of the street--"take mytip. Go and jump off the dock yourself. You'll feel another man. Giveup this bachelor business. It's a mug's game. I look on you bachelorsas excrescences on the social system. I regard you, old man, purelyand simply as a wart. Go and get married, laddie, go and get married.

　　By gad, I've forgotten to pay the cabby. Lend me a couple of bob,Garny old chap."He was out of the door and on his way downstairs before the echoes ofhis last remark had ceased to shake the window. I was left toentertain Mrs. Ukridge.