The missing rhyme was guessed immediately, in two places, as the auctioneers say.
However, by our next quinquennial meeting Nettie Minorca had thought out the following rejoinder:
“When history’s hand corrects the current myth,
Whose name will she prefer? ’Tis thine, Lloyd George.”
Yes, dear Nettie had a belated brilliance—the wit of the staircase, only more so. We always said that Nettie could do wonderful things if only she were given time.
She was given time ultimately, and is still doing it, but that was in a totally different connection. She inserted an advertisement stating that she was a thorough good cook. First-class references. Eight years in present situation in Exeter, and leaving because the family was going abroad. Wages asked, £36 per annum. No kitchen-maid required. No less than twelve families were so anxious to receive the treasure that they offered her return-fare between Exeter and London, and her expenses, to secure a personal interview with her. She collected the boodle from all twelve. And she was living in Bryanstone Square at the time. She is lost to us now.
As dear old Percy Cochin, also one of the Soles, once said to me: “We are here to-day, and gone at the end of our month.”
Violet Orpington had an arresting appearance, and walked rather like a policeman also. Her hair was a rich raw sienna, and any man would have made love to her had she but carried an ear-trumpet. She is the “retiring Violet” of verse seven.[A] Millie Wyandotte was malicious and unintelligent; she looked well in white, but was too heavily built for my taste. I may add, as evidence of my impartiality, that she laid a table better than any woman I ever knew; in fact, she took first prize in a laying competition. Nettie Minorca was “black but comely,” and had Spanish blood in her veins. She is the “gipsy” mentioned in verse one-and-a-half. Popsie Bantam was petite. Her profile was admired, but I always thought it a little beaky myself. I myself was the least beautiful, but the most attractive. Allusions to me will be found in verses 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 12-19, 24, 57-60, 74, 77, 87, 97, and 102-3468.
George Leghorn was an Albino, but his figure was very graceful. From the specimen which I have already given, it will be easy to believe that his wit was fluorescent, detergent, and vibratory. He afterwards became a well-known personality on the turf. He gained a considerable fortune by laying the odds; his family were all reputed to be good layers.
Dear old Peter Cochin was staunch and true. He reminds me of something that my illustrious model says of another man. She says that he “would risk telling me or anyone he loved, before confiding to an inner circle, faults which both he and I think might be corrected.” Grammar was no doubt made for slaves—not for the brilliant and autobiographical. All the same, a prize should be offered to anybody who can find the missing “risk” in mentioning to another a point on which both are agreed.
She adds that she has had “a long experience of inner circles.” There, it must be admitted, she is ahead of me. But the only inner circle of which I have had a long experience has been much improved since it was electrified.