*A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS^ 213 



away in dignified silence, which some people, I 

 know, consider to be the very haughtiest form of 

 repartee. Being myself somewhat of a child of the 

 streets, I prefer something with rather more sting 

 in it, such as * You're another.' * Your hair is 

 coming down.' But, as I say, I could not think 

 of anything at the time. I can generally think of 

 something when it is too late, and now I know 

 that I ought to have said, ' Put your head a little 

 nearer, old cock, and I'll show you whether it is a 

 close season or not.' Or else, * Close seasons were 

 invented to save the worthless lives of silly old 

 dotards, who would be better in the stew-pot.' 

 ' Stew-pot ' would have been a nasty one for him, 

 as it is a great disgrace to a pheasant that he 

 should be too tough to be roasted. Tt means that 

 he has been afraid to fly, and has skulked in the 

 cover and let the hens go out to be shot. Perhaps 

 both of my imaginary answers are too long, and 

 ' stew-pot ' alone would have been sufficient. 



I think that the best repartee which I ever made 

 — and it came out pat at the right moment, too — 

 was when my wife said to me one day, ' You are 

 very silent this morning,' and I answered, ' I wish 

 to goodness that you were, too !' But it does not 

 pay to practise the art of repartee on your wife. 



