?"

"Cousin Cornelia."

"Pray, tell us the name of your rival?"

"His Majesty, William the Conqueror of Normandy and England. I should
not be sorry if he carried off my gentle dame."

"What clergyman will marry you?"

"The Archbishop of Canterbury."

"How much is the lady worth?"

"Three cents."

"Where will you live?"

"In the black-hole of Calcutta."

"How many servants will you keep?"

"Two millions, five hundred thousand."

"I must say, you are moderate, considering the lady's fortune. In asking
the girls, I merely reverse the questions: 'From whom did you receive
your first offer?' etc. As the game wants a name, I think it should be
called 'Confidante:' the reader not only has a confidante in the play,
but is called upon to intrust his secrets to the whole assembled
company."

"But isn't this rather silly--all this about love and marriage?" asked
Mr. Wyndham, with the hesitating manner of one who knows that he shall
instantly be put down.

"Certainly it is, my dear uncle," answered Cornelia. "If it were not, we
should not like it half so well, I can tell you. You know we must be
foolish some time in our life--so, for my share, I'm taking it out now."

"Well, well--there's no harm in it, any how. Though you wouldn't believe
it, I was young once myself, and don't like to be too hard upon the
rising generation. There's a game I remember playing when I was a
youngster, that is not too wise for you, but ought to have more solidity
in it than the last, as it is all about lead. It is called the
'Lead-Merchant.' One tries in every mode to dispose of his lead to the
company, asking question after question, to which you must answer
without introducing the words _lead_, _I_, _yes_, or _no_. He tries to
trip you in every way, and as soon as you say one of the forbidden
words, you are out of the game. Would you like to try it?"

"Very much, uncle. Will you be the lead-merchant?"

"If you wish it. Amy, will you buy any lead?"

"Not any at present."

"But pray, why not?"

"Because none is desired at my house."

"Shall I call next week?"

"It is scarcely worth while: we do not wish any."

"I will stop to-morrow: your little boys want lead to make some
bullets."

"They would only burn their sweet little fingers in melting it: they
must not have any."

"Then you will not buy my lead?"

"Positively not."

"I noticed that the lead upon your roof wanted repairing: the rain will
beat in, and you'll