FullReads

“Why did that want a lot of chalk?” said Celia with interest.

I went to the fire-place and picked my ball out of the fender.

“That’s three to you,” I said coldly. “Twenty-four to nothing.”

“Am I winning?”

“You’re leading,” I explained. “Only, you see, I may make a twenty at any moment.”

“Oh!” She thought this over. “Well, I may make my three at any moment.”

She chalked her cue and went over to her ball.

“What shall I do?”

“Just touch the red on the right-hand side,” I said, “and you’ll go into the pocket.”

“The right-hand side? Do you mean my right-hand side, or the ball’s?”

“The right-hand side of the ball, of course; that is to say, the side opposite your right hand.”

“But its right-hand side is opposite my left hand, if the ball is facing this way.”

“Take it,” I said wearily, “that the ball has its back to you.”

“How rude of it,” said Celia, and hit it on the left-hand side, and sank it. “Was that what you meant?”

“Well … it’s another way of doing it.”

“I thought it was. What do I give you for that?”

“You get three.”

“Oh, I thought the other person always got the marks. I know the last three times—-“

“Go on,” I said freezingly. “You have another turn.”

“Oh, is it like rounders?”

“Something. Go on, there’s a dear. It’s getting late.”

She went, and left the red over the middle pocket.

“A-ha!” I said. I found a nice place in the “D” for my ball. “Now then. This is the Gray stroke, you know.”

I suppose I was nervous. Anyhow, I just nicked the red ball gently on the wrong side and left it hanging over the pocket. The white travelled slowly up the table.

“Why is that called the grey stroke?” asked Celia with great interest.

“Because once, when Sir Edward Grey was playing the German Ambassador–but it’s rather a long story. I’ll tell you another time.”

“Oh! Well, anyhow, did the German Ambassador get anything for it?”

“No.”

“Then I suppose I don’t. Bother.”

“But you’ve only got to knock the red in for game.”

“Oh!… There, what’s that?”

“That’s a miss-cue. I get one.”

“Oh!… Oh well,” she added magnanimously, “I’m glad you’ve started scoring. It will make it more interesting for you.”

There was just room to creep in off the red, leaving it still over the pocket. With Celia’s ball nicely over the other pocket there was a chance of my twenty break. “Let’s see,” I said, “how many do I want?”

“Twenty-nine,” replied Celia.

“Ah,” I said … and I crept in.

“That’s three to you,” I said icily. “Game.”