[General expression of gloomy blankness.
Algernon (to his Fiancée—whom he wants to see shine). Zeffie, you know no end of games—what's that one you played at home, with potatoes and a salt-spoon, you know?
Zeffie (blushing). No, please, Algy! I don't know any games, indeed, I couldn't really!
Mr. C. Uncle Joseph will set us going, I'm sure—what do you say, Uncle?
Uncle Joseph. Well, I won't say "no" to a quiet rubber.
Mrs. C. But, you see, we can't all play in that, and there is a pack of cards in the house somewhere; but I know two of the aces are gone, and I don't think all the court cards were there the last time we played. Still, if you can manage with what is left, we might get up a game for you.
Uncle J. (grimly). Thank you, my dear, but, on the whole, I think I would almost rather romp—
Mr. C. Uncle Joseph votes for romping! What do you say to Dumb Crambo? Great fun—half of us go out, and come in on all-fours, to rhyme to "cat," or "bat," or something—you can play that, Limpett?
Mr. Limpett. If I must find a rhyme to cat, I prefer, so soon after dinner, not to go on all-fours for it, I confess.
Mr. C. Well, let's have something quieter, then—only do settle. Musical Chairs, eh?