But the cards have not only ambiguities, but strange reticences.
"Oh," little Miss Banks will say, her eyes large with excitement,
"there's a payment of money and a dark man."
"Good," you say.
"But I can't tell," she goes on, "whether you pay it to him or he pays
it to you."
"That's a nice state of things," you say, becoming indignant. "Surely
you can tell."
"No, I can't."
You begin to go over your dark acquaintances who might owe you money,
and can think of none.
You then think of your dark acquaintances to whom you owe money, and are
horrified at their number.
"Oh, well," you say, "the whole thing's rubbish, anyway."
Little Miss Banks's eyes dilate with pained astonishment.
"Rubbish!"--and she begins to shuffle again.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Tommy_ (_dictating letter to be sent to his wife_). "The
nurses here are a very plain lot--"
_Nurse._ "Oh, come! I say! That's not very polite to us."
_Tommy._ "Never mind, Nurse, put it down. It'll please her!"]
* * * * *
From "Notes for the Use of New Chaplains," by an Indian Archdeacon:
"I have only given advice on matters where, to my own knowledge,
an ignorance of procedure has led to adverse criticism with
regard to breeches of etiquette."
Somebody seems to have been making fun of the venerable gentleman's
continuations.
* * * * *