"Let me see you do it again," I said. "I missed the first part."
"Oh, I can never do it. Bob, you show us."
Bob is an active young fellow. He took the poker, rested the end on
the floor, and then twisted himself underneath his right arm. I
expected to see him come up inside out, but he looked much the same
after it. However, no doubt his organs are all on the wrong side
now.
"Yes, that's how I should do it," I said hastily.
But Miss Power was firm. She gave me the poker. I pressed it hard on
the floor, said good-bye to them all, and dived. I got half-way
round, and was supporting myself upside down by one toe and the
slippery end of the poker, when it suddenly occurred to me that the
earth was revolving at an incredible speed on its own axis, and
that, in addition, we were hurtling at thousands of miles a minute
round the sun. It seemed impossible in these circumstances that I
should keep my balance any longer; and as soon as I realized this,
the poker began to slip. I was in no sort of position to do anything
about it, and we came down heavily together.
"Oh, what a pity!" said Miss Power. "I quite thought you'd done it."
"Being actually on the spot," I said, "I knew that I hadn't."
"Do try again."
"Not till the ground's a little softer."
"Let's do the jam-pot trick," said another girl.
"I'm not going under a jam-pot for anybody," I murmured.
However, it turned out that this trick was quite different. You
place a book (Macaulay's Essays or what not) on the jam-pot and sit
on the book, one heel only touching the ground. In the right hand
you have a box of matches, in the left a candle. The jam-pot, of
course, is on its side, so that it can roll beneath you. Then you
light the candle ... and hand it to anybody who wants to go to bed.
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 had done it.