Trouble sharpens the vision. In our moments of distress we can seeclearly that what is wrong with this world of ours is the fact thatMisery loves company and seldom gets it. Toothache is an unpleasantailment; but, if toothache were a natural condition of life, if allmankind were afflicted with toothache at birth, we should notnotice it. It is the freedom from aching teeth of all those withwhom we come in contact that emphasizes the agony. And, as withtoothache, so with trouble. Until our private affairs go wrong, wenever realize how bubbling over with happiness the bulk of mankindseems to be. Our aching heart is apparently nothing but a desertisland in an ocean of joy.

　　George, waking next morning with a heavy heart, made this discoverybefore the day was an hour old. The sun was shining, and birds sangmerrily, but this did not disturb him. Nature is ever callous tohuman woes, laughing while we weep; and we grow to take hercallousness for granted. What jarred upon George was the infernalcheerfulness of his fellow men. They seemed to be doing it onpurpose--triumphing over him--glorying in the fact that, howeverFate might have shattered him, they were all right.

　　People were happy who had never been happy before. Mrs. Platt, forinstance. A grey, depressed woman of middle age, she had seemedhitherto to have few pleasures beyond breaking dishes and relatingthe symptoms of sick neighbours who were not expected to livethrough the week. She now sang. George could hear her as sheprepared his breakfast in the kitchen. At first he had had a hopethat she was moaning with pain; but this was dispelled when he hadfinished his toilet and proceeded downstairs. The sounds sheemitted suggested anguish, but the words, when he was able todistinguish them, told another story. Incredible as it might seem,on this particular morning Mrs. Platt had elected to belight-hearted. What she was singing sounded like a dirge, butactually it was "Stop your tickling, Jock!" And. later, when shebrought George his coffee and eggs, she spent a full ten minutesprattling as he tried to read his paper, pointing out to him anumber of merry murders and sprightly suicides which otherwise hemight have missed. The woman went out of her way to show him thatfor her, if not for less fortunate people, God this morning was inHis heaven and all was right in the world.

　　Two tramps of supernatural exuberance called at the cottage shortlyafter breakfast to ask George, whom they had never even consultedabout their marriages, to help support their wives and children.

　　Nothing could have been more care-free and _debonnaire_ than thedemeanour of these men.

　　And then Reggie Byng arrived in his grey racing car, more cheerfulthan any of them.

　　Fate could not have mocked George more subtly. A sorrow's crown ofsorrow is remembering happier things, and the sight of Reggie inthat room reminded him that on the last occasion when they hadtalked together across this same table it was he who had been in aFool's Paradise and Reggie who had borne a weight of care. Reggiethis morning was brighter than the shining sun and gayer than thecarolling birds.