“Airiness, lightness, and insipidity;
Twistiness, spiciness, and solidity. 
Hallelujah!  I’ve got through! 
That is the best that I can do!’”

There was a shout at Hazel’s pinsticking.

“Now, Uncle Titus!  You finished next.”

“My question is a very comprehensive one,” said Uncle Titus, “with a very concise and suggestive word.  ‘How wags the world?’ ‘Slambang.’”

“’The world wags on
With lies and slang;
With show and vanity,
Pride and inanity,
Greed and insanity,
And a great slambang!’”

“That’s only one verse,” said Miss Craydocke.  “There’s another; but he didn’t write it down.”

Uncle Titus laughed, and tossed his Crambo on the table.  “It’s true, so far, anyway,” said he.

“So far is hardly ever quite true,” said Miss Craydocke

Lilian Ashburne had to answer the question whether she had ever read “Young’s Night Thoughts;” and her word was “Comet.”

“’Pray might I be allowed a pun,
To help me through with just this one? 
I’ve tried to read Young’s Thoughts of Night,
But never yet could come it, quite.’”

“O, O, O!  That’s just like Lilian, with her soft little ‘prays’ and ‘allow me’s,’ and her little pussy-cat ways of sliding through tight places, just touching her whiskers!”

“It’s quite fair,” said Lilian, smiling, “to slide through if you can.”

“Now, Mr. Geoffrey.”

And Mr. Geoffrey read,—­

“‘What is your favorite color?’ ‘One-hoss.’”

“’Do you mean, my friend, for a one-hoss shay,
Or the horse himself,—­black, roan, or bay? 
In truth, I think I can hardly say;
I believe, for a nag, “I bet on the gray.”

“’For a shay, I would rather not have yellow,
Or any outright, staring color,
That makes the crowd look after a fellow,
And the little gamins hoot and bellow.

“’Do you mean for ribbons? or gowns? or eyes? 
Or flowers? or gems? or in sunset skies? 
For many questions, as many replies,
Drops of a rainbow take rainbow dyes.

“’The world is full, and the world is bright;
Each thing to its nature parts the light;
And each for its own to the Perfect sight
Wears that which is comely, and sweet, and right.’”

“O, Mr. Geoffrey!  That’s lovely!” cried the girl voices, all around him.  And Ada made a pair of great eyes at her father, and said,—­

“What an awful humbug you have been, papa!  To have kept the other side up with care all your life!  Who ever suspected that of you?”

Diana and Hazel were not taken so much by surprise, their mother had improvised little nursery jingles for them all their baby days, and had played Crambo with them since; so they were very confident with their “Now, mother:”  and looked calmly for something creditable.

“‘What is your favorite name?’” read Mrs. Ripwinkley.  “And the word is ‘Stuff.’”