Raindrops
The four children playing twenty questions downstairs in the children’s
room could be heard clearly on the second floor.
Taking turns, each child became the announcer, wrote a word on a piece
of paper, and turned the paper over. All the players were children, so the
words were simple. If a child’s guess was “Correct!” a circle was drawn
next to his or her name.
Apparently the child with the most circles would win.
“This one’s a mineral,” said the announcer.
“Is it a liquid?”
“Yes, it’s a liquid.”
“Is it water?”
“Yes, it’s water.”
“Is the water making noise now?”
“Yes, it’s making noise now.”
“Does it sound like—drip drip drip?”
“Yes. You’re good at this!”
“Is it raindrops? . . .”
“Yes, it’s raindrops! Correct!”
They had guessed the word with only four questions.
“Shizu, wasn’t that Fumio just now—the one who said raindrops? He
really is quick,” said Hidaka Toshiko on the second floor, speaking through
the sliding paper-paneled walls to someone in the next room. There was a
