Part 16 (1/2)
”Mother and Mr. Geoffrey are doing heaps, too! We shall have to publish a book,” said Diana, biting the end of her pencil, and taking it easy. Diana hardly ever got the rhymes made in time; but then she always admired everybody's else, which was a good thing for somebody to be at leisure to do.
”Uncle Oldways and Lilian are folding up,” said Hazel.
”Five minutes more,” said Miss Craydocke, keeping the time with her watch before her. ”Hus.h.!.+”
When the five minutes were rapped out, there were seven papers to be read. People who had not finished this time might go on when the others took fresh questions.
Hazel began reading, because she had been ready first.
”'What is the difference between sponge-cake and doughnuts?'
'Hallelujah.'”
”Airiness, lightness, and insipidity; Twistiness, spiciness, and solidity.
Hallelujah! I've got through!
That is the best that I can do!'”
There was a shout at Hazel's pinsticking.
”Now, Uncle t.i.tus! You finished next.”
”My question is a very comprehensive one,” said Uncle t.i.tus, ”with a very concise and suggestive word. 'How wags the world?' 'Slambang.'”
”'The world wags on With lies and slang; With show and vanity, Pride and inanity, Greed and insanity, And a great slambang!'”
”That's only _one_ verse,” said Miss Craydocke. ”There's another; but he didn't write it down.”
Uncle t.i.tus laughed, and tossed his Crambo on the table. ”It's true, so far, anyway,” said he.
”_So far_ is hardly ever quite true,” said Miss Craydocke
Lilian Ashburne had to answer the question whether she had ever read ”Young's Night Thoughts;” and her word was ”Comet.”
”'Pray might I be allowed a pun, To help me through with just this one?
I've tried to read Young's Thoughts of Night, But never yet could come it, quite.'”
”O, O, O! That's just like Lilian, with her soft little 'prays' and 'allow me's,' and her little p.u.s.s.y-cat ways of sliding through tight places, just touching her whiskers!”
”It's quite fair,” said Lilian, smiling, ”to slide through if you can.”
”Now, Mr. Geoffrey.”
And Mr. Geoffrey read,--
”'What is your favorite color?' 'One-hoss.'”
”'Do you mean, my friend, for a one-hoss shay, Or the horse himself,--black, roan, or bay?
In truth, I think I can hardly say; I believe, for a nag, ”I bet on the gray.”
”'For a shay, I would rather not have yellow, Or any outright, staring color, That makes the crowd look after a fellow, And the little _gamins_ hoot and bellow.
”'Do you mean for ribbons? or gowns? or eyes?
Or flowers? or gems? or in sunset skies?