48 THE COMPLETE SPORTSMAN 



One summer's evening, two or three years 

 ago, Uncle Horace made up a cheery little 

 play-party, consisting of his wife, his sister 

 Jane and myself, to visit that popular modern 

 comedy, " Infrequent Mary," which was then 

 being played to crowded houses at one of the 

 best known of our West End theatres. 



We were unable to get four stalls all together, 

 but managed to secure two in the front row and 

 two others immediately behind them. Uncle 

 Horace was naturally averse from sitting next 

 to his wife, and as the society of his sister 

 seemed equally distasteful to him, the two 

 ladies were persuaded to occupy the front seats, 

 while the male members of the party sat in the 

 two others in rear. 



At the beginning of the second act I hap- 

 pened to notice that a small thread of silk was 

 sticking out of the top of Aunt Sophie's gown 

 at the back. I pointed this out to her husband, 

 and he quickly leant forward and began very 

 gently to pull it out. The thread, however, 

 proved to be very much longer than he ex- 

 pected, and by the time Uncle Horace had 

 extracted several feet of it and there was still 

 no sign of his having reached the end, we realized 

 that he was engaged upon a more arduous and 

 complicated business than had originally been 

 supposed. He would have preferred to avoid 



