"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.
"But I haven't begun yet," she said. "Well, I suppose you know the
rules, but it seems funny. What would you like me to do?"
"Well, there isn't much on. You'd better just try and hit the red ball."
"Right." She leant over the table and took long and careful aim. I held
my breath.... Still she aimed.... Then, keeping her chin on the cue, she
slowly turned her head and looked up at me with a thoughtful expression.
"Oughtn't there to be three balls on the table?" she said, wrinkling her
forehead.
"No," I answered shortly.
"But why not?"
"Because I went down by mistake."
"But you said that when you got going, you wanted--I can't argue bending
down like this." She raised herself slowly. "You said--Oh, all right, I
expect you know. Anyhow, I _have_ scored some already, haven't I?"
"Yes. You're eighteen to my nothing."
"Yes. Well, now I shall have to aim all over again." She bent slowly
over her cue. "Does it matter where I hit the red?"
"Not much. As long as you hit it on the red part."
She hit it hard on the side, and both balls came into baulk.
"Too good," I said.
"Does either of us get anything for it?"
"No." The red and the white were close together, and I went up the table
and down again on the off-chance of a cannon. I misjudged it, however.
"That's three to you," I said stiffly, as I took my ball out of the
right-hand bottom pocket. "Twenty-one to nothing."
"Funny how I'm doing all the scoring," said Celia meditatively. "And
I've practically never played before. I shall hit the red hard now and
see what happens to it."
She hit, and the red coursed madly about the table, coming to rest near
the top right-hand pocket and close to the cushion. With a forcing shot
I could get in.
"This will want a lot of chalk," I said pleasantly to Celia, and gave it
plenty. Then I let fly....
"Why did that want a lot of chalk?" said Celia with interest.