Part 57 (1/2)

”Your little girl, sir,” began the old lady at the same moment.

”I said it first,” I murmured. ”Betty,” I went on aloud, ”what is your name, my child?”

”You've just said it.”

”I mean,” I corrected myself quickly, ”where do you live?”

”Kensington.”

I looked triumphantly at the old lady. Surely a father wouldn't need to ask his own child where she lived? However, the old lady was asleep again. I turned to Betty.

”We shall have to play this game more quietly,” I said. ”In fact, we had better make some new rules. Instead of hitting me on the head each time, you can roll the ball gently along the floor to me, and I shall roll it gently back to you. And the one who misses it first goes to bed.”

I gave her an easy one to start with, wis.h.i.+ng to work up naturally to the denouement, and she gave me a very difficult one back, not quite understanding the object of the game.

”You've got to go to bed,” she cried, clapping her hands. ”You've got--to go--to bed. You've got--to go--to bed. You've--”

”All right,” I said coldly. ”Don't make a song about it.”

It was ten minutes past six. I generally go to bed at eleven-thirty.

It would be the longest night I had had for years. I sighed and prepared to go.

”You needn't go till half-past,” said Betty kindly.

”No, no,” I said firmly. ”Rules are rules.” I had just remembered that there was nothing in the rules about not getting up again.

”Then I'll come with you and see your room.”

”No, you mustn't do that; you'd fall out of the window. It's a very tricky window. I'm always falling out of it myself.”

”Then let's go on playing here, and we won't go to bed if we miss.”

”Very well,” I agreed. Really there was nothing else for it.

Robbed of its chief interest, the game proved, after ten minutes or so, to be one of the duller ones. Whatever people say, I don't think it compares with cricket, for instance. It is certainly not so subtle as golf.

”I like playing this game,” said Betty. ”Don't you?”

”I think I shall get to love it,” I said, looking at the clock.

There were still five minutes, and I rolled down a very fast googly which beat her entirely and went straight for the door. Under the old rules she would have gone to bed at once. Alas, that--

”Look out,” I said as she went after it, ”there's somebody coming in.”

Somebody came in. She smiled ruefully at us and then took Betty's hand.