Cyril’s first line was, “Oh, I say, you know, you mustn’t say that, really!” and it seemed to me he passed it over the larynx with a goodish deal of vim and je-ne-sais-quoi . But, by Jove, before the heroine had time for the comeback, our little friend with the freckles had risen to lodge a protest.

“Pop!”

“Yes, darling?”

“That one’s no good!”

“Which one, darling?”

“The one with a face like a fish.”

“But they all have faces like fish, darling.”

The child seemed to see the justice of this objection. He became more definite.

“The ugly one.”