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I was aghast at this awful result. Then an idea struck me, and I took the pencil and began to figure on my own account.

“Look here, Titania,” I said. “Not so fast. Moving the clock ahead doesn’t really bring those people any nearer their graves. What it does do is bring the ratification of the Peace Treaty sooner, which is a fine thing. By deleting a hundred million hours we shorten Senator Borah’s speeches against the League by 11,410 years. That’s very encouraging.”

“According to that way of reckoning,” she said with sarcasm, “Mr. Borah’s term must have expired about 11,000 years ago.”

“My dear Titania,” I said, “the ways of the Government may seem inscrutable, but we have got to follow them with faith. If Mr. Wilson tells us to murder 163 fine old men in elastic-sided boots we must simply do it, that’s all. Peace is a dreadful thing. We have got to meet the Germans on their own ground. They adopted this daylight-saving measure years ago. They call it Sonnenuntergangverderbenpraxis, I believe. After all, it is only a temporary measure, because in the fall, when the daylight hours get shorter, we shall have to turn the clocks back a couple of hours in order to compensate the gas and electric light companies for all the money they will have lost. That will bring those 163 old gentlemen to life again and double their remaining term of years to make up for their temporary effacement. They are patriotic hostages to Time for the summer only. You must remember that time is only a philosophical abstraction, with no real or tangible existence, and we have a right to do whatever we want with it.”

“I will remind you of that,” she said, “at getting-up time on Sunday morning. I still think that if we are going to monkey with the clocks at all it would be better to turn them backward instead of forward. Certainly that would bring you home from the club a little earlier.”

“My dear,” I said, “we are in the Government’s hands. A little later we may be put on time rations, just as we are on food rations. We may have time cards to encourage thrift in saving time. Every time we save an hour we will get a little stamp to show for it. When we fill out a whole card we will be entitled to call ourselves a month younger than we are. Tell that to Mrs. Borgia; it will reconcile her.”

A lusty uproar made itself heard upstairs and Titania gave a little scream. “Heavens!” she cried. “Here I am talking with you and Junior’s bottle is half an hour late. I don’t care what Mr. Wilson does to the clocks; he won’t be able to fool Junior. He knows when it’s, time for meals. Won’t you call up Central and find out the exact time?”