AFTER DINNER
I. THE COMPLETE KITCHEN
I wat in the drawing-room after dinner with my knees together and my hands in my lap, and waited for the game to be explained to me.
"There's a pencil for you," said somebody.
"Thank you very much," I said, and put it carefully away. Evidently I had won a forfeit already. It wasn't a very good pencil though.
"Now, has everybody got pencils?" asked somebody else. "The game is called 'Furnishing a Kitchen.' It's quite easy. Will somebody think of a letter?" She turned to me. "Perhaps you'd better."
"Certainly," I said, and I immediately thought very hard of N. These thought-reading games are called different things, but they are all the same really, and I don't believe in any of them.
"Well?" said everybody.
"What? ... Yes, I have. Go on.... Oh, I beg your pardon," I said in confusion. I thought you—— N. is the letter."
"N or M?"
I smiled knowingly to myself.
"My godfather and my godmother," I went on cautiously——
"It was N," interrupted somebody. "Now then, you've got five minutes in which to write down everything you can beginning with N. Go." And they all started to write like anything.
I took my pencil out and began to think. I know it sounds an easy game to you now, as you sit at your desk surrounded by dictionaries; but when you are squeezed on to the edge of a sofa, given a very blunt pencil and a thin piece of paper, and challenged to write in five minutes (on your knees) all the words you can think of beginning with a certain letter—well, it is another matter altogether. I thought of no end of things which started with K, or even L; I thought of "rhinoceros," which is a very long word and starts with R; but as for——
I looked at my watch and groaned. One minute gone.
"I must keep calm," I said, and in a bold hand I wrote Napoleon. Then, after a moment's thought, I added Nitro-glycerine, and Nats.
"This is splendid," I told myself. "Notting Hill, Nobody and Noon. That makes six."
At six I stuck for two minutes. I did worse than that in fact; for I suddenly remembered that gnats were spelt with a G. However, I decided to leave them, in case nobody else remembered. And on the fourth minute I added Non-sequitur.
"Time!" said somebody.
"Just a moment," said everybody. They wrote down another word or two (which isn't fair) and then began to add up. "I've got thirty," said one.
"Thirty-two."
"Twenty-five."
"Good heavens," I said, "I've only got seven."
There was a shout of laughter.
"Then you'd better begin," said somebody. "Read them out."
I coughed doubtfully, and began;
"Napoleon."
There was another shout of laughter.
"I am afraid we can't allow that."
"Why ever not?" I asked in amazement.
"Well, you'd hardly find him in a kitchen, would you?"
I took out a handkerchief and wiped my brow. "I don't want to find him in a kitchen," I said nervously. "Why should I? As a matter of fact, he's dead. I don't see what the kitchen's got to do with it. Kitchens begin with a K."
"But the game is called 'Furnishing a Kitchen.' You have to make a list of things beginning with N which you would find in a kitchen. You understood that, didn't you?"
"Y-y-yes," I said. "Oh y-y-y-yes. Of course."
"So Napoleon——"
I pulled myself together with a great effort.
"You don't understand," I said with dignity. "The cook's name was Napoleon."
"Cooks aren't called Napoleon," said everybody.
"This one was. Carrie Napoleon. Her mistress was just as surprised at first as you were, but Carrie assured her that——"
"No, I'm afraid we can't allow it."
"I'm sorry," I said; "I'm wrong about that. Her name was Carrie Smith. But her young man was a soldier, and she had bought a 'Life of Napoleon' for a birthday present for him. It stood on the dresser—it did, really—waiting for her next Sunday out."
"Oh! Oh, well, I suppose that is possible. Go on."
"Gnats," I went on nervously and hastily. "Of course I know that——"
"Gnats are spelt with a G," they shrieked.
"These weren't. They had lost the G when they were quite young, and consequently couldn't bite at all, and cook said that——"
"No, I'm afraid not."
"I'm sorry," I said resignedly. "I had about forty of them—on the dresser. If you won't allow any of them, it pulls me down a lot. Er—then we have Nitro-glycerine."
There was another howl of derision.
"Not at all," I said haughtily. "Cook had chapped hands very badly, and she went to the chemist's one evening for a little glycerine. The chemist was out, and his assistant—a very nervous young fellow—gave her nitro-glycerine by mistake. It stood on the dresser, it did, really."
"Well," said everybody very reluctantly, "I suppose——"
I went on hastily:
"That's two. Then Nobody. Of course, you might easily find nobody in the kitchen. In fact you would pretty often, I should say. Three. The next is Noon. It could be noon in the kitchen as well as anywhere else. Don't be narrow-minded about that."
"All right. Go on."
"Non-sequitur," I said doubtfully.
"What on earth——"
"It's a little difficult to explain, but the idea is this. At most restaurants you can get a second help of anything for half-price, and that is technically called a 'follow.' Now, if they didn't give you a follow, that would be a Non-sequitur.... You do see that, don't you?"
There was a deadly silence.
"Five," I said cheerfully. "The last is Notting Hill. I must confess," I said magnanimously, "that I am a bit doubtful whether you would actually find Notting Hill in a kitchen."
"You don't say so!"
"Yes. My feeling is that you would be more likely to find the kitchen in Notting Hill. On the other hand, it is just possible that, as Calais was found engraven on Mary's heart, so, supposing the cook died—— Oh, very well. Then it remains at five."
Of course you think that, as I only had five, I came out last. But you are wrong. There is a pleasing rule in this game that, if you have any word in your list which somebody else has, you cannot count it. And as all the others had the obvious things—such as a nutmeg-grater or a neck of mutton or a nomelette—my five won easily. And you will note that, if only I had been allowed to count my gnats, it would have been forty-five.
II. GETTING THE NEEDLE
He was a pale, enthusiastic young man of the name of Simms; and he held forth to us at great length about his latest hobby.
"Now I'll just show you a little experiment," he wound up; "one that I have never known to fail. First of all, I want you to hide a needle somewhere, while I am out of the room. You must stick it where it can be seen—on a chair—or on the floor if you like. Then I shall come back and find it."
"Oh, Mr Simms!" we all said.
"Now, which one of you has the strongest will?"
We pushed Jack forward. Jack is at any rate a big man.
"Very well. I shall want you to take my hand when I come in, and look steadily at the needle, concentrate all your thoughts on it. I, on the other hand, shall make my mind a perfect blank. Then your thoughts will gradually pass into my brain, and I shall feel myself as it were dragged in the direction of the needle."
"And I shall feel myself, as it were, dragged after you?" said Jack.
"Yes; you mustn't put any strain on my arm at all. Let me go just where I like, only will me to go in the right direction. Now then."
He took out his handkerchief, put it hastily back, and said: "First, I shall want to borrow a handkerchief or something."
Well, we blindfolded him, and led him out of the room. Then Muriel got a needle, which, after some discussion, was stuck into the back of the Chesterfield. Simms returned, and took Jack's left hand.
They stood there together, Jack frowning earnestly at the needle, and Simms swaying uncertainly at the knees. Suddenly his knees went in altogether, and he made a little zig-zag dash across the room, as though he were taking cover. Jack lumbered after him, instinctively bending his head too. They were brought up by the piano, which Simms struck with great force. We all laughed, and Jack apologised.
"You told me to let you go where you liked, you know," he said.
"Yes, yes," said Simms rather peevishly, "but you should have willed me not to hit the piano."
As he spoke he tripped over a small stool, and, flinging out an arm to save himself, swept two photograph frames off an occasional table.
"By Jove!" said Jack, "that's jolly good. I saw you were going to do that, and I willed that the flower vase should be spared. I'm getting on."
"I think you had better start from the door again," I suggested. "Then you can get a clear run."
They took up their original positions.
"You must think hard, please," said Simms again. "My mind is a perfect blank, and yet I can feel nothing coming."
Jack made terrible faces at the needle. Then, without warning, Simms flopped on to the floor at full length, pulling Jack after him.
"You mustn't mind if I do that," he said, getting up slowly.
"No," said Jack, dusting himself.
"I felt irresistibly compelled to go down," said Simms.
"So did I," said Jack.
"The needle is very often hidden in the floor, you see. You are sure you are looking at it?"
They were in a corner with their backs to it; and Jack, after trying in vain to get it over his right shoulder or his left, bent down and focussed it between his legs. This must have connected the current; for Simms turned right round and marched up to the needle.
"There!" he said triumphantly, taking off the bandage.
We all clapped, while Jack poured himself out a whisky. Simms turned to him.
"You have a very strong will indeed," he said, "one of the strongest I have met. Now, would one of the ladies like to try?"
"Oh, I'm sure I couldn't," said all the ladies.
"I should like to do it again," said Simms modestly. "Perhaps you, sir?"
"All right, I'll try," I said.
When Simms was outside I told them my idea.
"I'll hold the needle in my other hand," I said, "and then I can always look at it easily, and it will always be in a different place, which ought to muddle him."
We fetched him in, and he took my left hand....
"No, it's no good," he said at last, "I don't seem to get it. Let me try the other hand...."
I had no time to warn him. He clasped the other hand firmly; and, from the shriek that followed, it seemed that he got it. There ensued the "perfect blank" that he had insisted on all the evening. Then he pulled off the bandage, and showed a very angry face.
Well, we explained how accidental it was, and begged him to try again. He refused rather sulkily.
Suddenly Jack said: "I believe I could do it blindfold. Miss Muriel, will you look at the needle and see if you can will me?"
Simms bucked up a bit, and seemed keen on the idea. So Jack was blindfolded, the needle hid, and Muriel took his hand.
"Now, is your mind a perfect blank?" said Simms to Jack.
"It always is," said Jack.
"Very well, then. You ought soon to feel in a dreamy state, as though you were in another world. Miss Muriel, you must think only of the needle."
Jack held her hand tight, and looked most idiotically peaceful. After three minutes Simms spoke again.
"Well?" he said eagerly.
"I've got the dreamy, other-world state perfectly," said Jack, and then he gave at the knees just for the look of the thing.
"This is silly," said Muriel, trying to get her hand away.
Jack staggered violently, and gripped her hand again.
"Please, Miss Muriel," implored Simms. "I feel sure he is just going to do it."
Jack staggered again, sawed the air with his disengaged hand, and then turned right round and marched for the door, dragging Muriel behind him. The door slammed after them....
* * * * * * * *
There is a little trick of sitting on a chair and picking a pin out of it with the teeth. I started Simms—who was all eagerness to follow the pair, and find out the mysterious force that was drawing them—upon this trick, for Jack is one of my best friends. When Jack and Muriel came back from the billiard-room, and announced that they were engaged, Simms was on his back on the floor with the chair on the top of him—explaining, for the fourth time, that if the thing had not overbalanced at the critical moment he would have secured the object. There is much to be said for this view.