Barty's accomplishments soon became the principal recreation of the Laferté ladies; and even M. Laferté himself would start for the forest an hour or two later or come back an hour sooner to make Barty go through his bag of tricks. He would have an arm-chair brought out on the lawn after breakfast and light his short black pipe and settle the programme himself. First, "_le saut périlleux_"--the somersault backwards--over and over again, at intervals of two or three minutes, so as to give himself time for thought and chuckles, while he smoked his pipe in silent stodgy jubilation. Then, two or three songs--they would be stopped, if M. Laferté didn't like them, after the first verse, and another one started instead; and if it pleased him, it was encored two or three times. Then, pen and ink and paper were brought, and a small table and a kitchen chair, and Barty had to draw caricatures, of which M. Laferté chose the subject. "Maintenant, fais-moi le profil de mon vieil ami M. Bonzig, que j' n' connais pas, que j' n'ai jamais vu, mais q' j'aime beaucoup." (Now do me the side face of my old friend M. Bonzig, whom I don't know, but am very fond of.) And so on for twenty minutes. Then Barty had to be blindfolded and twisted round and round, and point out the north--when he felt up to it. Then a pause for reflection. Then: "Dis-moi qué'q' chose en anglais." "How do you do very well hey diddle-diddle Chichester church in Chichester church-yard!" says Barty. "Qué'q' çà veut dire?" "Il s'agit d'une église et d'un cimetière!" says Barty--rather sadly, with a wink at me. "C'est pas gai! Qué vilaine langue, hein? J' suis joliment content que j' sais pas I'anglais, moi!" (It's not lively! What a beastly language, eh? I'm precious glad _I_ don't know English.) Then: "Démontre-moi un problème de géométrie." Barty would then do a simple problem out of Legendre (the French Euclid), and M. Laferté would look on with deep interest and admiration, but evidently no comprehension whatever. Then he would take the pen himself, and draw a shapeless figure, with A's and B's and C's and D's stuck all over it in impossible places, and quite at hazard, and say: "Démontre-moi que A + B est plus grand que C + D." It was mere idiotic nonsense, and he didn't know better! But Barty would manage to demonstrate it all the same, and M. Laferté would sigh deeply, and exclaim, "C'est joliment beau, la géométrie!" Then: "Danse!" And Barty danced "la Paladine," and did Scotch reels and Irish jigs and break-downs of his own invention, amidst roars of laughter from all the family.