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Updated: June 24, 2025
"I'm not," said Robin; "you don't see other girls' rooms. Look at yours at Cambridge. Malooney told us you'd had a fire, and we all believed him at first." "When a man's working " said Dick. "He must have an orderly place to work in," suggested Robin. Dick sighed. "It's never any good talking to you," said Dick. "You don't even see your own faults."
An Irish youngster named Malooney, a college chum of Dick's, was staying with us; and the afternoon being wet, the Captain said he would explain it to Malooney, how a young man might practise billiards without any danger of cutting the cloth. He taught him how to hold the cue, and he told him how to make a bridge. Malooney was grateful, and worked for about an hour. He did not show much promise.
The Captain had left the balls in a position that would have disheartened any other opponent than Malooney. To any other opponent than Malooney the Captain would have offered irritating sympathy. "Afraid the balls are not rolling well for you to-night," the Captain would have said; or, "Sorry, sir, I don't seem to have left you very much." To-night the Captain wasn't feeling playful.
She had only heard them once, yet, so far as I could judge, she had got them letter perfect. The Captain, now no longer under the necessity of employing all his energies to suppress his natural instincts, gradually recovered form, and eventually the game stood at one hundred and forty-nine all, Malooney to play.
It travelled on and passed the white you could have put quite a lot of paper between it and the white and dropped with a contented thud into the top left-hand pocket. "Why does he do that?" Malooney whispered. Malooney has a singularly hearty whisper.
"Well, if he scores off that!" said Dick. "Short of locking up the balls and turning out the lights, I don't myself see how one is going to stop him," sighed the Captain. The Captain's ball was in hand. Malooney went for the red and hit perhaps it would be more correct to say, frightened it into a pocket.
Now then, Captain, game in your hands," said Dick. We gathered round. The children left their play. It was a pretty picture: the bright young faces, eager with expectation, the old worn veteran squinting down his cue, as if afraid that watching Malooney's play might have given it the squirms. "Now follow this," I whispered to Malooney.
The result was ten: a cannon and all three balls in the same pocket. As a matter of fact he made the cannon twice; but the second time, as we explained to him, of course did not count. "Good beginning!" said the Captain. Malooney seemed pleased with himself, and took off his coat.
It was dangerous work, however, and when Dick had caught him out twice running, we agreed that we had won, and took him in to tea. In the evening none of the rest of us being keen to try our luck a second time the Captain said, that just for the joke of the thing he would give Malooney eighty-five and play him a hundred up.
The Captain, making up his mind without much waste of time, sent his ball under the cushion, six inches outside baulk. "What will I do here?" asked Malooney. "I don't know what you will do," said the Captain; "I'm waiting to see." Owing to the position of the ball, Malooney was unable to employ his whole strength.
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