FISHING 49 



any further trouble by putting the thread back, 

 but this was now impossible, and so, with 

 clenched teeth and a determined look on his 

 face, he set himself to reel out yard after yard 

 of silk from the nape of his unconscious spouse's 

 V-shaped bodice. Beyond giving an occasional 

 wriggle, as though someone were tickling her, 

 Aunt Sophie remained unmoved by (and ap- 

 parently ignorant of) what was happening; she 

 was indeed far too deeply engrossed in the play 

 to appreciate the fact that her husband was 

 producing miles of material from her neck in a 

 fashion which riveted the attention of the other 

 occupants of the theatre and would have made 

 the most expert conjuror green with envy. 



For close upon three-quarters of an hour 

 Uncle Horace continued his self-imposed task, 

 growing more and more exhausted as he hauled 

 up furlong after furlong of the thread; while I 

 encouraged and stimulated him by humming 

 a sailor's chanty in his ear whenever he seemed 

 to be flagging. At last the silk came to a sudden 

 end. My companion sank back into his stall 

 with a sigh of relief and his arms full of thread, 

 and when we afterwards wound the latter into 

 a ball it was found to measure no less than 

 4,637J yards in length. 



During the interval between the last two acts 

 of the play. Aunt Sophie repeatedly complained 



