Voces Populi Part 22

MISS ROSE. Only you've driven them all out of our heads again!

[_They resume their conversation._

MR. WH. Well, do make a suggestion, somebody! Professor, won't _you_ give us a Word?

CHORUS OF LADIES. Oh, _do_, Professor--you're sure to think of something clever!

PROFESSOR POLLEN (_modestly_). Well, really, I've so little experience in these matters that--A Word _has_ just occurred to me, however; I don't know, of course, whether it will meet with approval--(_he beams at them with modest pride through his spectacles_)--it's "Monocotyledonous."

CHORUS OF LADIES. Charming! Monocottle--Oh, can't we _do_ that?

MR. WH. (_dubiously_). We might--but--er--what's it _mean_?

PROF. POLLEN. It's a simple botanical term, signifying a plant which has only one cup-shaped leaf, or seed-lobe. Plants with _two_ are termed--

MR. WH. I don't see how we're going to act a plant with only one seed-lobe myself--and then the syllables--"mon"--"oh"--"cot"--"till"--we shouldn't get done before _midnight_, you know!

PROF. POLLEN (_with mild pique_). Well, I merely threw it out as a suggestion. I thought it could have been made amusing. No doubt I was wrong; no doubt.

MR. SETTEE (_nervously_). I've thought of a word. How would--er--"_Familiar_" do?

MR. WH. (_severely_). Now, _really_, Settee, _do_ try not to footle like this!

[MR. SETTEE _subsides amidst general disapproval_.

MR. FLINDERS (_with a flash of genius_). I've got it--_Gamboge_!

MR. WH. Gamboge, eh? Let's see how that would work:--"Gam"-"booge." How do you see it yourself?

[MR. FLINDERS _discovers on reflection, that he doesn't see it, and the suggestion is allowed to drop_.

MISS PELAGIA RHYS. _I've_ an idea. _Familiar!_ "Fame"-"ill"-"liar," you know.

[_Chorus of applause._

MR. WH. Capital! The very thing--congratulate you, Miss Rhys!

MR. SETTEE (_sotto voce_). But I say, look here, _I_ suggested that, you know, and you said--!

MR. WH. (_ditto_). What on earth _does_ it matter who suggests it, so long as it's right? Don't be an a.s.s, Settee! (_Aloud._) How are we going to do the first syllable "Fame," eh? [MR. SETTEE _sulks_.

MR. PUSHINGTON. Oh, that's easy. One of us must come on as a Poet, and all the ladies must crowd round flattering him, and making a lot of him, asking him for his autograph, and so on. I don't mind doing the Poet myself, if n.o.body else feels up to it.

[_He begins to dress for the part by turning his dress-coat inside out, and putting on a turban and a Liberty sash, by way of indicating the eccentricity of genius; the Ladies adorn themselves with a similar regard to realism, and even more care for appearances._

AFTER THE FIRST SYLLABLE.

_The Performers return from the drawing-room, followed by faint applause._

MR. PUSHINGTON. Went capitally, that syllable, eh? (_No response._) You might have played up to me a little more than you did--you others. You let me do everything!

MISS LARKSPUR. You never let any of us get a word in!

MR. PUSHINGTON. Because you all talked at once, that was all. Now then--"ill." I'll be a celebrated Doctor, and you all come to me one by one, and say you're _ill_--see?

[_Attires himself for the role of a Physician in a dressing-gown and an old yeomanry helmet._

MR. WHIPSTER (_huffily_). Seems to me I may as well go and sit with the audience--I'm no use _here_!

MR. PUSHINGTON. Oh, yes, Whipster, I want you to be my confidential butler, and show the patients in.

[MR. W. _accepts--with a view to showing_ PUSHINGTON _that other people can act as well as he_.

AFTER THE SECOND SYLLABLE.

MR. PUSHINGTON. Seemed to _drag_ a little, somehow! There was no necessity for you to make all those long soliloquies, Whipster. A Doctor's confidential servant wouldn't chatter so much!

MR. WHIPSTER. You were so confoundedly solemn over it, I had to put some fun in _somewhere_!

MR. P. Well, you might have put it where some one could see it. n.o.body laughed.

PROFESSOR POLLEN. I don't know, Mr. Pushington, why, when I was describing my symptoms--which I can vouch for as scientifically correct--you persisted in kicking my legs under the table--it was unprofessional, Sir, and extremely painful!

MR. PUSHINGTON. I was only trying to hint to you that as there were a dozen other people to follow, it was time you cut the interview short, Professor--that one syllable alone has taken nearly an hour.

MISS BUCKRAM. If I had known the kind of questions you were going to ask me, Mr. Pushington, I should certainly not have exposed myself to them.

I say no more, but I must positively decline to appear with you again.

MR. PUSHINGTON. Oh, but really, you know, in Charades one gets carried away at times. I a.s.sure you, I hadn't the remotest (_&c, &c._--_until_ Miss Buckram _is partly mollified_.) Now then--last syllable. Look here, I'll be a regular impostor, don't you know, and all of you come on and say what a _liar_ I am. We ought to make that screamingly funny!

AFTER THE THIRD SYLLABLE.

MR. PUSHINGTON. Muddled? Of _course_ it was muddled--you all called me a liar before I opened my mouth!

THE REST. But you didn't seem to know how to begin, and we _had_ to bring the Word in somehow.

PUSHINGTON. Bring it in?--but you needn't have let it _out_. There was Settee there, shouting "liar" till he was black in the face. We must have looked a set of idiots from the front. I sha'n't go in again (_muttering_). It's no use acting Charades with people who don't understand it. There; settle the Word yourselves!

AFTER THE WORD. AMONG THE AUDIENCE.

GENERAL MURMUR. What _can_ it be? Not _Turk_, I suppose, or Magician?--Quarrelling?--Parnellite--Impertinence? Shall we give it up?

No, they like us to guess, poor things; and besides, if we don't they'll do another; and it is getting _so_ late, and such a _long_ drive home.

Oh, they're all coming back; then it _is_ over. No, indeed, we can't _imagine_. "_Familiar!_" To be sure--_how_ clever, and _how_ well you all acted it, to be sure--you must be quite tired after it all. I am sure _we_--hem--are deeply indebted to you.... My dear Miss Rose, how wonderfully you disguised yourself, I never recognized you a bit, nor _you_, Mr. Nightingale. What part did _you_ take?

MR. NIGHTINGALE. I--er--didn't take any particular part--wasn't wanted, you know.