I was ready to give way to the ladies here, but even while I was bowing and saying, "Not at all," I found myself on one of the jam-pots with Bob next to me on another. To balance with the arms outstretched was not so difficult; but as the matches were then about six feet from the candle and there seemed no way of getting them nearer together the solution of the problem was as remote as ever. Three times I brought my hands together, and three times the jam-pot left me.
"Well played, Bob," said somebody. The bounder has done it.
I looked at his jam-pot.
"There you are," I said. "'Raspberry--1909.' Mine's 'Gooseberry--1911,' a rotten vintage. And look at my book, _Alone on the Prairie_; and you've got _The Mormon's Wedding_. No wonder I couldn't do it."
I refused to try it again as I didn't think I was being treated fairly; and after Bob and Miss Power had had a race at it, which Bob won, we got on to something else.
"Of course you can pick a pin out of a chair with your teeth?" said Miss Power.
"Not properly," I said. "I always swallow the pin."
"I suppose it doesn't count if you swallow the pin," said Miss Power thoughtfully.
"I don't know. I've never really thought about that side of it much. Anyhow, unless you've got a whole lot of pins you don't want, don't ask me to do it to-night."
Accordingly we passed on to the water-trick. I refused at this, but Miss Power went full length on the floor with a glass of water balanced on her forehead and came up again without spilling a single drop. Personally I shouldn't have minded spilling a single drop; it was the thought of spilling the whole glass that kept me back. Anyway it is a useless trick, the need for which never arises in an ordinary career. Picking up _The Times_ with the teeth, while clasping the left ankle with the right hand, is another matter. That might come in useful on occasions; as, for instance, if, having lost your left arm on the field and having to staunch with the right hand the flow of blood from a bullet wound in the opposite ankle, you desired to glance through the Financial Supplement while waiting for the ambulance.
"Here's a nice little trick," broke in Bob, as I was preparing myself in this way for the German invasion.
He had put two chairs together, front to front, and was standing over them, if that conveys it to you. Then he jumped up, turned round in the air, and came down facing the other way.
"Can _you_ do it?" I said to Miss Power.
"Come and try," said Bob to me. "It's not really difficult."
I went and stood over the chairs. Then I moved them apart and walked over to my hostess.
"Good-bye," I said; "I'm afraid I must go now."
"Coward!" said somebody, who knew me rather better than the others.
"It's much easier than you think," said Bob.
"I don't think it's easy at all," I protested. "I think it's impossible."
I went back and stood over the chairs again. For some time I waited there in deep thought. Then I bent my knees preparatory to the spring, straightened them up, and said,
"What happens if you just miss it?"
"I suppose you bark your shins a bit."
"Yes, that's what I thought."
I bent my knees again, worked my arms up and down, and then stopped suddenly and said:
"What happens if you miss it pretty easily?"
"Oh, _you_ can do it, if Bob can," said Miss Power kindly.
"He's practised. I expect he started with two hassocks and worked up to this. I'm not afraid, but I want to know the possibilities. If it's only a broken leg or two, I don't mind. If it's permanent disfigurement I think I ought to consult my family first."
I jumped up and came down again the same way for practice.
"Very well," I said. "Now I'm going to try. I haven't the faintest hope of doing it, but you all seem to want to see an accident, and anyhow, I'm not going to be called a coward. One, two, three...."
"Well done," cried everybody.
"Did I do it?" I whispered, as I sat on the floor and pressed a cushion against my shins.
"Rather!"
"Then," I said, massaging my ankles, "next time I shall try to miss."
XXXVIII. A BILLIARD LESSON
I was showing Celia a few fancy strokes on the billiard table. The other members of the house-party were in the library, learning their parts for some approaching theatricals--that is to say, they were sitting round the fire and saying to each other, "This _is_ a rotten play." We had been offered the position of auditors to several of the company, but we were going to see _Parsifal_ on the next day, and I was afraid that the constant excitement would be bad for Celia.
"Why don't you ask me to play with you?" she asked. "You never teach me anything."
"There's ingratitude. Why, I gave you your first lesson at golf only last Thursday."
"So you did. I know golf. Now show me billiards."
I looked at my watch.
"We've only twenty minutes. I'll play you thirty up."
"Right-o. What do you give me--a ball or a bisque or what?"
"I can't spare you a ball, I'm afraid. I shall want all three when I get going. You may have fifteen start, and I'll tell you what to do."
"Well, what do I do first?"
"Select a cue."
She went over to the rack and inspected them.
"This seems a nice brown one. Now then, you begin."
"Celia, you've got the half-butt. Put it back and take a younger one."
"I thought it seemed taller than the others." She took another. "How's this? Good. Then off you go."
"Will you be spot or plain?" I said, chalking my cue.
"Does it matter?"
"Not very much. They're both the same shape."
"Then what's the difference?"
"Well, one is more spotted than the other."
"Then I'll be less spotted."
I went to the table.
"I think," I said, "I'll try and screw in off the red." (I did this once by accident and I've always wanted to do it again.) "Or perhaps," I corrected myself, as soon as the ball had left me, "I had better give a safety miss."
I did. My ball avoided the red and came swiftly back into the left-hand bottom pocket.
"That's three to you," I said without enthusiasm.
Celia seemed surprised.