English fiction -- 20th century; Humorous stories, English; Short stories, English
"Show the lady what you have got," I said sternly.
"Well, mum, I'm right out of ribbon, altogether. The fact is I'm
more of an ironmonger really. The draper's is just the other side of
the road. You wouldn't like a garden-roller now? I can do you a nice
garden-roller for two pound five, and that's simply giving it away."
"Oh, shall we have a nice roller?" said Myra eagerly.
"I'm not going to carry it home," I said.
"That's all right, sir. My little lad will take it up on his
bicycle. Two pounds five, mum, and sixpence for the mouse-trap the
gentleman's been sitting on. Say three pounds."
Myra took out her purse.
SECOND SCENE
We were back in our ordinary clothes.
"I wonder if they guessed that," said Archie.
"It was very easy," said Myra. "I should have thought they'd have
seen it at once."
"But of course they're not a very clever lot," I explained. "That
fellow with the spectacles--"
"Simpson his name is," said Archie. "I know him well. He's a
professional golfer."
"Well, he LOOKS learned enough. I expect he knows all right. But the
others--"
"Do you think they knew that we were supposed to be in a shop?"
"Surely! Why, I should think even--What's that man's name over
there? No; that one next to the pretty lady--ah, yes, Thomas. Is
that Thomas, the wonderful cueist, by the way? Really! Well, I
should think even Thomas guessed that much."
"Why not do it over again to make sure?"
"Oh no, it was perfectly obvious. Let's get on to the final scene."
"I'm afraid that will give it away rather," said Myra.
"I'm afraid so," agreed Archie.
THIRD SCENE
We sat on camp-stools and looked up at the ceiling with our mouths
open.
"'E's late," said Archie.
"I don't believe 'e's coming, and I don't mind 'oo 'ears me sye so,"
said Myra. "So there!"
"'Ot work," I said, wiping my brow.
"Nar, not up there. Not 'ot. Nice and breezy like."
"But 'e's nearer the sun than wot we are, ain't 'e?"
"Ah, but 'e's not 'ot. Not up there."
"'Ere, there 'e is," cried Myra, jumping up excitedly. "Over there.
'Ow naow, it's a bird. I declare I quite thought it was 'im. Silly
of me."
There was silence for a little, and then Archie took a sandwich out
of his pocket.
"Wunner wot they'll invent next," he said, and munched stolidly.
. . . . . . .
"Well done," said Dahlia.
"Thomas and I have been trying to guess," said Simpson, "but the
strain is terrific. My first idea was 'codfish,' but I suppose
that's wrong. It's either 'silkworm' or 'wardrobe.' Thomas suggests
'mangel-wurzel.' He says he never saw anybody who had so much the
whole air of a wurzel as Archie. The indefinable elan of the wurzel
was there."
"Can't you really guess?" said Myra eagerly.
"I don't know whether I want you to or not. Oh no, I don't want you
to."
"Then I withdraw 'mangel-wurzel,'" said Simpson gallantly.
"I think I can guess," said Blair. "It's--"
"Whisper it," said Simpson. "I'm never going to know."
Blair whispered it.
"Yes," said Myra disappointedly, "that's it."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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