“Patsy,” said Dr. O’Grady, “if that man mentions his wife again, hit him with the flat of your hand on the side of the head. Now go on, Mr. Dick.”
“When—when we were imprisoned,” said Mr. Dick.
“That ought not to have stopped you,” said Dr. O’Grady. “The great problems of your country’s welfare ought to come before considerations of your personal convenience. Think of the ancient Romans. Remember Horatius, and Coriolanus, and the fellow that jumped into the hole in the Forum. That’s the way you ought to be behaving instead of grumbling and growling. Now I’m going to give you another chance. If you choose to behave like reasonable human beings, well and good. Patsy and I will do everything in our power to make your stay here pleasant for you. If you won’t, you shan’t have a bite or sup until you do. I’ll give you three minutes by my watch to make up your minds. Will you or will you not be sociable and pleasant? Will you join us in a game of Hunt the Slipper? Come over to the window, Patsy, and leave them to make up their minds together.”
Patsy and Dr. O’Grady stood looking out at the yard; the doctor held his watch in his hand; there was dead silence in the room.
“One minute gone,” said Dr. O’Grady.
There was a sound of whispering which ceased abruptly.
“Two minutes gone.”
There was more whispering. Then Mr. Sanders spoke.
“Don’t choose such a silly game,” he said. “We can’t play Hunt the Slipper. We really can’t. Dick says he’d rather starve.”
“I’m not particular about what game you choose,” said Dr. O’Grady, “so long as it’s a possible game. There’s no use your saying golf or cricket or lawn tennis, because we’ve no way of playing them here. You can have Drop the Handkerchief, if you like, or Oranges and Lemons.”