is supposed to take a hand in the cross-examination, but in practice it is always one person who extracts the information required by a cataract of searching questions.  Always one person and generally a girl.  I love to see her coming out of her shell.  She has excelled at none of the outdoor games perhaps; she has spoken hardly a word at meals.  In our little company she has scarcely seemed to count.  But suddenly she awakes into life.  Clumps is the family game at home; she has been brought up on it.  In a moment she discovers herself as our natural leader, a leader whom we follow humbly.  And however we may spend the rest of our time together, the effect of her short hour’s triumph will not wholly wear away.  She is now established.

But the paper games will always be most popular, and once you are over the difficulty of the pencils you may play them for hours without wearying.  But of course you must play the amusing ones and not the dull ones.  The most common paper game of all, that of making small words out of a big one, has nothing to recommend it; for there can be no possible amusement in hearing somebody else read out “but,” “bat,” “bet,” “bin,” “ben,” and so forth, riot even if you spend half an hour discussing whether “ben” is really a word.  On the other hand your game, however amusing, ought to have some finality about it; a game is not really a game unless somebody can win it.  For this reason I cannot wholly approve “telegrams.”  To concoct a telegram whose words begin with certain selected letters of the alphabet, say the first ten, is to amuse yourself anyhow and possibly your friends; whether you say, “Am bringing camel down early Friday.  Got hump.  Inform Jamrach”; or, “Afraid better cancel dinner engagement.  Fred got horrid indigestion.—­Jane.”  But it is impossible to declare yourself certainly the winner.  Fortunately, however, there are games which combine amusement with a definite result; games in which the others can be funny while you can get the prize—­or, if you prefer it, the other way about.

When I began to write this, the rain was streaming against the window-panes.  It is now quite fine.  This, you will notice, often happens when you decide to play indoor games on a wet afternoon.  Just as you have found the pencils, the sun comes out.

Declined with Thanks

A paragraph in the papers of last week recorded the unusual action of a gentleman called Smith (or some such name) who had refused for reasons of conscience to be made a justice of the peace.  Smith’s case was that the commission was offered to him as a reward for political services, and that this was a method of selecting magistrates of which he did not approve.  So he showed his contempt for the system by refusing an honour which most people covet, and earned by this such notoriety as the papers can give.  “Portrait (on page 8) of a gentleman who has refused something!” He takes his place with Brittlebones in the gallery of freaks.