“When you are casting for striped bass, the reel runs very easy, and the bait is heavy, and if you don’t check the reel with a thumb, as the line runs out, and then stop it as the bait drops on the sea, the reel runs on, and the line gets into a tangle, such as is really unimaginable. It takes hours to get it clear. Hence Ellett’s comparison.”
“That is a noble idea,” cried Miss Anne. “An intellectual overrun!”
“You see,” said Ellett, much pleased, “everything is underneath that ought to be on top, and the inside of the line gets snarled in loops of the outside, and there’s a sidewise tangle, and—”
“Wouldn’t it be advisable to stop at this point?” said Fred.
“Shouldn’t wonder.” And he reflected upon the excellence of his comparison.
The night was clear and pleasant, and, as they talked, they went out and sat on the porch, where presently Lyndsay joined the group.
“Miss Lyndsay,” said Carington, “tells us you gave up the plots. I am not too sorry. How do you play the game?”
“Oh, two or three of us devise situations, and when we announce them, the others act them. It is an Italian game, I believe, and quite amusing. You may treat the situations seriously or lightly. It is easiest to keep to the key-note on which you start, and not try too hard to be funny. Puns and quibbles, coming in of a sudden, disturb the other actor, unless he be well used to it.”
“I never pun,” said Anne; “but to be forbidden I regard as an invasion of human rights.”
“Oh, they are not forbidden!”