Again Jane squealed in fearful pleasure.
"Go on," she urged. "Worser."
Thus encouraged, The Seraph rapped out, without more ado, "Tiger blood—ephelant blood—caterpillar blood—ole witch blood"—then, after a pause, that the horror of it might sink deep in—"Baby blood!"
Angel and I gave each other a look of enlightenment. It was gore then, that this delicately nurtured young person craved, good red gore, and plenty of it! Well—enough—we were free. Wait! What was she saying?
"I hate those other boys, Seraph, darling. Let's jus' you and me play together always. And you should be Dorothea's father, and Dorothea should want to paddle in the—"
Away! Away! With sardonic laughter, we sped along the pebbled drive, nor stopped until we reached our own domain.
Then in the planked back yard, we sat on our steps, with a volume of "The Quiver" on our knees, in case Mrs. Handsomebody should invade our privacy, and played a rollicking game of pirates. And when any of the fair sex fell into our hands we were none too gentle with them.
"Chuck 'em overboard, lieutenant!" was Captain Angel's way of dealing with the case.
Just as the Cathedral clock struck five, The
[74]
