t the Watkinses, but the members
nevertheless were sufficiently amused by several of the "Does"--things
to do--that one or another suggested. First they did shadow drawings.
The dining table proved to be the most convenient spot for that. They
all sat around under the strong electric light. Each had a block of
rather heavy paper with a rough surface, and each was given a camel's
hair brush, a bottle of ink, some water and a small saucer. From a vase
of flowers and leaves and ferns which Mrs. Morton contributed to the
game each selected what he wanted to draw. Then, holding his leaf so
that the light threw a sharp shadow upon his pad, he quickly painted the
shadow with the ink, thinning it with water upon the saucer so that the
finished painting showed several shades of gray.

"The beauty of this stunt is that a fellow who can't draw at all can
turn out almost as good a masterpiece as Ethel Blue here, who has the
makings of a real artist," and James gazed at his production with every
evidence of satisfaction.

As it happened none of them except Ethel Blue could draw at all well, so
that the next game had especial difficulties.

"All there is to it is to draw something and let us guess what it is,"
said Ethel Blue.

"You haven't given all the rules," corrected Roger. "Ethel Blue makes
two dots on a piece of paper--or a short line and a curve--anything she
feels like making. Then we copy them and draw something that will
include those two marks and she sits up and 'ha-has' and guesses what it
is."

"I promise not to laugh," said Ethel Blue.

"Don't make any such rash promise," urged Helen. "You might do yourself
an injury trying not to when you see mine."

It was fortunate for Ethel Blue that she was released from the promise,
for her guesses went wide of the mark. Ethel Brown made something that
she guessed to be a hen, Roger called it a book, Dicky maintained firmly
that it was a portrait of himself. The rest gave it up, and they all
needed a long argument by the artist to believe that she had meant to
draw a pair of candlesticks.

"Somebody think of a game where Ethel Brown can do herself justice,"
cried James, but no one seemed to have any inspiration, so they all went
to the fire, where they cracked nuts and told stories.

"If you'll write those orders for the seed catalogues I'll post them
to-night," James suggested to Helen.

"Oh, will you? Margaret and I will write them together."

"What's the rush?"