h his stick, and scowling.

"'The Last Days of Pompeii,'" say I, stupidly, and yet laughing again;
not because I think my witticism good, which no human being could do,
but because I _must_ laugh for very gladness. Another longer pause.
(Shall I present the bag the night we arrive, or wait till next day?)

"I have got a riddle to ask you," says Frank, abruptly, and firing the
observation off somewhat like a bomb-shell.

"Have you?" say I, absently. "I hope it is a good one."

"Of course, _you_ must judge of that--'_Mon premier_--'"

"It is in _French_!" cry I, with an accent of disgust.

"Well, why should not it be?" (rather tartly).

"No reason whatever, only that I warn you beforehand I shall not
understand it: I always _shiver_ when people tell me a French anecdote;
I never know when the point has arrived: I always laugh too soon or too
late."

He says nothing, but looks black.

"Go on!" say I, laughing. "We will try, if you like."

"_Mon--premier--est--le--premier--de tout_," he says, pronouncing each
word very separately and distinctly. "Do you understand _that_?"

I nod. "My first is the first of all--yes."

"_Mon second n'a pas de second._"

"My second has no second--yes."

"_Mon tout_"--(turning his long, sleepy eyes sentimentally toward
me)--"_je ne saurai vous le dire._"

"My whole--I cannot tell it you!--then why on earth did you ask me?" cry
I, breaking out into hearty, wholesome laughter.

Again he blackens.

"Well, have you guessed it?"

"Guessed it!" I echo, recovering my gravity. "Not I!--my first is the
first of all--my second has no second--my whole, I cannot tell it
you!--I do not believe it is a riddle at all! it is a hoax--a take-in,
like 'Why does a miller wear a white hat?'"

"It is nothing of the kind," he answers, looking thoroughly annoyed.
"Must I tell you the answer?"

"I shall certainly never arrive at it by my unassisted genius," I reply,
yawning. "Ah! there is M. Dom going out riding! Alas! never again shall
I see him mount that peacocking steed!"

"It is 'Adieu!'" says my companion, blurting it out in a rage, seeing
that I _will_ not be interested in or excited by it.

"_Adieu!_" repeat I, standing with my mouth wide open, looking perfectly
blank. "_How?_"

"You do not see?" he says. (His face has grown scarlet.) "Well, you must
excuse me for saying that you are rather--" He breaks off and begins
again, very fast this time. "My first is the first of all--is no