_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 assure 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 shan'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 recognised 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. _Miss Rose_. Not to _act_,--so we stayed outside and--and--arranged things. _An Old Lady_. Indeed? Then you had all the hard work, and none of the pleasure, my dear, I'm afraid. _Miss Rose_ (_sweetly_). Oh no. I mean yes!--but we didn't _mind_ it much. _The O.L._ And which of you settled what the Word was to be? _Mr. N._ Well, I believe we settled that together. [_Carriages are announced; departure of guests who are not of the house-party. In the Smoking-room, Mr. PUSHINGTON discovers that he does not seem exactly popular with the other men, and puts it down to jealousy._