f the shoulders, upraised eyebrows, and other gestures,
indicate they either fail to understand, or, it may be, to agree with.
But the whole word, like more ambitious dramatic representations, is
somehow involved in fog. You cannot help thinking that it must be a good
charade if you could only make out what it was about; but when the
curtain descends, the audience, instead of at once proclaiming the word,
can hardly even make a guess at it. There are cries for the
stage-manager; and when Jim Bloxam appears in reply to a laughing call,
"The word? the word?" he bows low to the audience, and regrets his
inability to comply with their request.

"The distinguished authoress," continued Jim, "has taken none of us into
her confidence. She has, I presume, strong opinions on the subject of
copyright, and is determined to give no opportunity of its infringement."

Jim's speech created both merriment and curiosity, and was followed by a
prompt call of "Author, author!" A few seconds, and then the
stage-manager responds by leading Sylla forward in her soubrette dress.
Dropping the sauciest of curtsies in acknowledgment of the applause with
which she is greeted, she replies in clear distinct tones,

"Ladies and gentlemen, you find our word unintelligible. Paradoxical as
it may seem, that is precisely the result we have aimed at; and now that
I have told you the word, I am sure you will admit our efforts have been
successful;" and once more bowing to her audience, Sylla disappeared
behind the curtain Jim held back for her.

What can she mean? What do they mean? What is it? What was the word?
were questions responded to by the jolly laugh of Cedric Bloxam.

"Can't you see?" he said, "it's all a sell: we found it unintelligible,
and that is precisely what we were meant to do--that's the word."

And once more the Squire indulged in a hearty guffaw.

But now the company flock into the drawing-room for tea or other
refreshment, while the servants rapidly clear the play-room for dancing.
The curtain is pulled up, the stage occupied by a select section of the
Commonstone band, and, in something like a quarter of an hour Jim's
impromptu dance is in full swing.

"My dear Sylla," exclaimed Lady Mary, as that young lady, leaning upon
Bloxam's arm, stopped near her in one of the pauses of the valse, "I have
not had an opportunity of congratulating you upon your very spirited
pantomime--carried, my dear, a _little_ too far in that