“Splendid,” said Miss Davies.  “Now you, Arthur.”

“I refuse—­Oh, all right,” he said.  “Where have we—­’salad’—­er—­ ‘lobster.’”

Do you catch the idea, as it were?  We seemed to fall into the way of it in a moment.  Once we had tried we progressed at a tremendous rate.  Perhaps we are all very clever, or perhaps it was really easier than it seems in the telling, but looking back the conversation seems to have been simply brilliant.

Well, here’s an idea of how we went on, anyway, and you can judge for yourselves (Davies, you remember, has just snapped out “Lobster"):—­

Miss Davies (quick as lightning).  Shrimp.

John.  Whiskers. (A very subtle one, this.)

Me.  Beard. (Rather weak effort.)

Davies. Moustache. (Weaker still; received with groans.)

Miss Davies (quick as another lightning).  CHARLIE CHAPLIN. (Loud cheers here and laughter, followed by a long pause while John thinks.) At last:—­

John. MARY PICKFORD.

Me (after another pause).  DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS.

Davies (indicating with a wave of the hand that it has been forced on him).  D.W.  GRIFFITHS.

There is a slight hold-up at this point while Miss Davies tells her brother that he is not trying, and he says he knows he isn’t.  Miss Davies gets back on to the track amidst applause, however, with:—­

“Broken Blossoms.”

After this things went on for a long time, hours and hours I should say.  I remember that we mentioned among many subjects of interest sausage-rolls, horoscopes, hair-pins, Cleopatra’s Needle and lung-wort.  I must resist the temptation to tell the whole absorbing story in detail, and skip rapidly to the point where the chase reached the following interesting stage:—­

Miss Davies (still going strong).  Whale.

John (struggling hard but growing weak).  Oil.

Me (quite innocently).  Grease.

Davies (triumphantly).  MARGARINE.

I looked at Miss Davies in embarrassment.  John gazed round pitifully.

“But,” he murmured weakly, “isn’t that where we started?”

“Of course it is,” said Miss Davies indignantly.  “You’ve spoilt the whole game, Arthur.”

“Well, I can’t help it,” said her brother; “I thought that was the word we were after.  What was it, anyway?”

We all looked at the sky and thought hard.

“Hanged if I know,” said John.

“I’m sure I don’t,” I said.

“Well, isn’t that ridiculous?” said Miss Davies.

“Of course it is,” said her brother brutally; “I knew it was ridiculous from the beginning. You said it quickened the mental processes.  Would memory be one of them?”

“Let’s go inside and have some tea,” said John.

We crept quietly indoors.

* * * * *