Capt. Cropper (to the R. M.) Oh, takes about eight months, with a lesson every day, to make a man efficient in the Cavalry, does it? But, look here—I suppose four more lessons will put me all right, eh? I've had eight, y' know.
R. M. Well, Sir, if you arsk me, I dunno as another arf dozen 'll do you any 'arm—but, o'course, that's just as you feel about it.
[Captain Cropper endeavours to extract encouragement from this Delphic response.]
The Impromptu Charade-Party.
Scene—The Library of a Country-House; the tables and chairs are heaped with brocades, draperies, and properties of all kinds, which the Ladies of the company are trying on, while the men rack their brains for a suitable Word. In a secluded corner, Mr. Nightingale and Miss Rose are conversing in whispers.
Mr. Whipster (Stage-Manager and Organizer—self-appointed). No—but I say, really, you know, we must try and decide on something—we've been out half-an-hour, and the people will be getting impatient! (To the Ladies.) Do come and help; it's really no use dressing up till we've settled what we're going to do. Can't anybody think of a good Word?
Miss Larkspur. We ought to make a continuous story of it, with the same plot and characters all through. We did that once at the Grange, and it was awfully good—just like a regular Comedy!
Mr. Whipster. Ah, but we've got to hit on a Word first. Come—nobody got an idea? Nightingale, you're not much use over there, you know. I hope you and Miss Rose have been putting your heads together?
Mr. Nightingale (confused). Eh? No, nothing of the sort! Oh, ah—yes, we've thought of a lot of Words.