"Georgie"
little beggar had, and the kicking instinct was in his blood."
"Georgie," said Drusilla gently, "have you stolen him from his mother, or only borrowed him? Is he here on a visit? Do tell us the awful truth at once. I never could bear to have things broken gently to me."
"Well," Georgie looked confused. "You'd better let me go on with my story, hadn't you? It would be a pity if I mixed things up now."
"Go on," said I. "Drusilla, do you think Matthew Arnold ought to cut his hair off with the cake knife? He hasn't enough as it is."
Drusilla, deeply occupied with Georgie and his travelling companion, saved her precious in the nick of time, and the strange, wolfish little boy cuddled up on Georgie's knee, nestling a sticky, sulky face in his friend's beautiful waistcoat. Georgie had a weakness for wonderful waistcoats about that time.
"I thought," said Georgie dreamily, "of
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