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.