I was showing Celia a few fancy strokes on the billiard-table. The other members of the house-party were in the library, learning their parts for some approaching theatricals—that is to say, they were sitting round the fire and saying to each other, "This is a rotten play." We had been offered the position of auditors to several of the company, but we were going to see Parsifal on the next day, and I was afraid that the constant excitement would be bad for Celia.
"Why don't you ask me to play with you?" she asked. "You never teach me anything."
"There's ingratitude. Why, I gave you your first lesson at golf only last Thursday."
"So you did. I know golf. Now show me billiards."
I looked at my watch.
"We've only twenty minutes. I'll play you thirty up."
"Right-o. What do you give me—a ball or a bisque or what?"
"I can't spare you a ball, I'm afraid. I shall want all three when I get going. You may have fifteen start, and I'll tell you what to do."
"Well, what do I do first?"
"Select a cue."