Sheila Davies and her brother had cycled over to play tennis. They sat,
with John and myself, on the steps and watched the rain falling.
"As a matter of general interest," said Arthur Davies to me, "when a man
invites his friends and neighbours over to play tennis and it pours with
rain all the time, what is the correct thing for him to do?"
"As a matter of general interest," I answered, "the good host will send the
ladies to play the piano, if any, and to talk scandal, whether there is any
or not. He will himself conduct the men of the party to the billiard-room
or the smoking-room and offer them cigarettes and whisky--if any."
"Ah," said Davies, "then it isn't usual just to keep them sitting miserably
on the steps watching the net float away?"
John, on whose steps we were sitting, felt the need of speech.
"I have often wondered," he said, turning to Miss Davies, "how your brother
ever got into such a nice family as yours. How do you keep so cheerful with
it always about?"
"One gets used to it in time," said Miss Davies.
"I suppose so," said John. "After all, we have the same sort of family
disaster in Alan, but we manage to bear up."
Davies rose.
"You and I don't seem popular here," he said to me. "Will you conduct me to
the billiard-room or the smoking-room? I am in need of a wash."
"As a matter of general interest," said John to Miss Davies, "is it the
correct thing to wash _before_ setting out to visit friends, or can it be
left until some hours after arrival?"
Miss Davies sighed heavily.
"If you two are going to sit here thinking of clever remarks to make about
each other I shall go home. For goodness' sake let's pretend we are
enjoying ourselves."
"I _am_ enjoying myself," said John plaintively; "I've been wanting to say
what I really think of your brother for years."
"Well, don't do it now. Things are miserable enough without having
discussions on Arthur. Let's all have a game at something, shall we?"
"Splendid idea," said her brother. "What about tennis?"
"We might get into bathing togs and play polo," I suggested.
"That's not a bad notion," said John, "and then he needn't have a wash
until to-morrow."
"I suggest," continued Miss Davies, "that we play at Word Chains."
Davies buried his face in his hands and groaned.
"It sounds fine," I said gallantly. "What is it?"
"Well, it's really a sort of mind exercise. They recommend it in those
courses, you know," said Miss Davies, "er--'it stimulates a logical
sequence in reasoning and quickens the mental processes.'"
"Is that what they say about it?" asked John fearfully.
"But it makes a splendid game," added Miss Davies eagerly. "Let me explain
it to you and you'll see. First of all we think of a word, such as--er--
'margarine.'"
"Why?" asked John.
"It's part of the game, of course," said Miss Davies indignantly.
"Oh, I see--of course. How stupid of me!" said John.
"Then we think of another word quite different, such as--"
"'Hippopotamus,'" I suggested.
"That's right," said Miss Davies.