Inquiries after Alfred, who is in business and comes home only for week-ends, always elicit the assurance that he is “struggling along somehow.” General Kendal, known as Puppa, and Mrs. Kendal--Mumma--also “struggle along somehow.” When they were told about Sallie’s new game, Dolly and Aileen Kendal looked horribly distrustful. “How can one ever guess who it’s meant for, I should like to know. It would be impossible,” said Aileen. “Would it?” Sallie remarked, dryly. She caught her mother’s eye and relented. “Of course, you can take a public character for your portrait, if you like.” “That would be much easier,” declared the Kendals in a breath. We all wrote on our pieces of paper, and bit the ends of our pencils, and finally folded up the papers and threw them into a bowl. “Here goes,” said Dolly Kendal, recklessly. “It’ll be all the same a hundred years hence,” Aileen added, with her air of philosophical resignation. The first slip read aloud by Martyn was my own. “Kind-hearted, Indomitable, Pathetic, Unscrupulous, Cheerful.” “Nancy Fazackerly,” said Mary, instantly. “But why indomitable?” I heard Dolly ask, in a puzzled way. “Excellent. Now here’s someone you’ll all guess,” said Martyn, with a glance at his sister. “Rational, Sympathetic, Intelligent, Reserved, Elusive.” “Elusive is very good,” said Sallie. “You’ve got it?” her brother asked. “Of course.” “Wait a minute,” said Claire. “Read it again.” Martyn read it again, refraining from glancing at his mother. “Queen Mary,” Aileen Kendal suddenly suggested, brightly. Martyn considered her gravely. “What makes you think it might be?” he inquired at last, evidently honestly curious. “Oh, I don’t know. You said we might take public characters, and she was the first one I thought of.” “It might be me, I suppose,” Claire said, thoughtfully, “only it leaves out a good deal. I mean, I don’t think those characteristics are the most salient ones.” “Besides, some of them wouldn’t apply, Cousin Claire,” said Sallie, ruthlessly. “For one thing, I should never call you in the least--” “Tell me who it is, Sallie,” her mother interrupted her. “You, of course. I guessed it directly and so did Cousin Miles.” “It’s good, I think,” said Martyn. “Elusive is the very word I’ve been looking for to describe mother’s sort of remoteness.” I saw the Kendals exchange glances with one another. Certainly, it is quite inconceivable that in the family circle at Dheera Dhoon Mumma should ever be thus described, in her own presence, by her progeny. “Read the next one,” said Claire, coldly. The Kendals had each of them selected a member of the royal family for analysis, and the adjectives that they had chosen bore testimony rather to a nice sense of loyalty than to either their powers of discernment or any appreciation of the meaning of words. Then came the catastrophe that Mary and I, at least, had grimly foreseen from the start.