The word-choosers locked themselves in the library to ensure that their deliberations should not be interrupted. Providence turned out to be not even decently neutral; on a rack on the library wall were a dog-whip and a whalebone riding-switch. Rollo thought it criminal negligence to leave such weapons of precision lying about. He was given a choice of evils, and chose the dog-whip; the next minute or so he spent in wondering how he could have made such a stupid selection. Then they went back to the languidly expectant females.

“The word’s ‘camel,’ ” announced the Wrotsley cousin blunderingly.

“You stupid!” screamed the girls, “we’ve got to guess the word. Now you’ll have to go back and think of another.”

“Not for worlds,” said Rollo; “I mean, the word isn’t really camel; we were rotting. Pretend it’s dromedary!” he whispered to the others.