d, coming to the
rescue. The children were all fond of games.

CHAPTER XIX.

BECALMED.

"What shall it be first, then?" went on Auntie Jean, adjusting the
cushions behind her back and resting her umbrella against the rail.

"Teakettle," suggested Edna.

"What _is_ teakettle?" asked Hilda.

"Don't you know? We play it lots. Somebody goes out--"

"Into the water?" put in Archie. "Then Cricket is 'it,' I say."

"Well, of course, Archie, I was thinking of dry land. Somebody shuts up
her ears, then, and we choose a word. It must be one with two or three
meanings. Then, whoever is 'it,' begins to ask questions, and we answer,
only we put the word 'teakettle' in place of the real word. We can say
'teakettling,' you know, or 'teakettled,' if we want to. Who'll be 'it'
first?"

"I'd just as lief," said Eunice, going to the bow, and putting her
fingers in her ears, and burying her head in a cushion.

"What shall we choose for a word? It must have two or three meanings,
you know."

"_Sail_ would be very appropriate," suggested Will, who was still
laboriously sculling.

"Oh, yes. See, Hilda? There's to sail, and taking a sail, and a sale of
things."

"And the sail of the boat," said Archie.

"All ready, Eunice. Touch her, Archie. Begin, Eunice."

"The hardest part is to think of questions," said Eunice, turning around
and meditating. "Let me see. Auntie, when do you think we will get
home?"

"When we are on a teakettle, it is never safe to say," answered auntie.

"On a teakettle--on a boat--that doesn't fit," meditated Eunice. "Will,
why don't you make Archie scull now?"

"Because he's such a lazy beggar. When he goes teakettling, he won't do
anything else."

"Edna, is the moon made of green cheese?"

"What a hard question," groaned Edna. "What shall I say? If we
teakettled up there, perhaps we could find out."

"I can't guess it yet," said Eunice, thinking over this answer.
"Cricket, if you weren't a girl, what would you rather be?"

"I know--a boy," said Archie, quickly. "Wouldn't you, Miss Scricket?"

"No, I wouldn't, Mr. Archie. I would rather be a pig than a boy. A nice
fat pig, and then nobody would laugh at my 'knitting-needles.' That's
what papa calls my legs, always, auntie, you know, because they're _not_
fat, I know. He always wants mamma to knit with them, and all that
nonsense. It seems to amuse them very much," added Cricket, with a bored
air.

"You haven't teakettled once, chi