Miss Larkspur.  We ought to make a continuous story of it, with the same plot and characters all through.  We did that once at the Grange, and it was awfully good—­just like a regular Comedy!

Mr. Whipster.  Ah, but we’ve got to hit on a Word first.  Come—­nobody got an idea?  NIGHTINGALE, you’re not much use over there, you know.  I hope you and Miss ROSE have been putting your heads together?

Mr. Nightingale (confused).  Eh?  No, nothing of the sort!  Oh, ah—­yes, we’ve thought of a lot of Words.

Miss Rose.  Only you’ve driven them all out of our heads again!

    [They resume their conversation.

Mr. Wh. Well, do make a suggestion, somebody!  Professor, won’t you give us a Word?

Chorus of Ladies.  Oh, do, Professor—­you’re sure to think of something clever!

Professor Pollen (modestly).  Well, really, I’ve so little experience in these matters that—­A Word has just occurred to me, however; I don’t know, of course, whether it will meet with approval—­(he beams at them with modest pride through his spectacles)—­it’s “Monocotyledonous.”

Chorus of Ladies.  Charming!  Monocottle—­Oh, can’t we do that?

Mr. Wh. (dubiously).  We might—­but—­er—­what’s it mean?

Prof.  Pollen.  It’s a simple botanical term, signifying a plant which has only one cup-shaped leaf, or seed-lobe.  Plants with two are termed—­

Mr. Wh. I don’t see how we’re going to act a plant with only one seed-lobe myself—­and then the syllables—­“mon”—­“oh”—­“cot”—­“till”—­we shouldn’t get done before midnight, you know!

Prof.  Pollen (With mild pique).  Well, I merely threw it out as a suggestion.  I thought it could have been made amusing.  No doubt I was wrong; no doubt.

Mr. Settee (nervously).  I’ve thought of a word.  How would—­er—­“Familiar” do?

Mr. Wh. (severely).  Now, really.  SETTEE, do try not to footle like this! [Mr. SETTEE subsides amidst general disapproval.

Mr. Flinders. (With a flash of genius).  I’ve got it—­Gamboge!

Mr. Wh. Gamboge, eh?  Let’s see how that would work:—­“Gam”—­“booge.”  How do you see it yourself?

    [Mr. FLINDERS discovers, on reflection, that he doesn’t see
    it, and the suggestion is allowed to drop.

Miss Pelagia Rhys. I’ve an idea. Familiar! “Fame”—­“ill”—­“liar,” you know. [Chorus of applause.

Mr. Wh. Capital!  The very thing—­congratulate you, Miss RHYS!

Mr. Settee (sotto voce).  But I say, look here, I suggested that, you know, and you said—!

Mr. Wh. (ditto).  What on earth does it matter who suggests it, so long as it’s right?  Don’t be an ass, SETTEE! (Aloud.) How are we going to do the first syllable “Fame,” eh? [Mr. SETTEE sulks.