"Very kind and thoughtful of you, I am sure," commented Miss Smellie
sourly. "Most obliging and benevolent," and, with a sudden change to
righteous anger and bitterness, "Why don't you speak the truth?"

"I am speaking the truth, Miss--er--Smellie," replied the boy. "We did
come to play with the dear little Haddock--like one plays with a
football or a frog. I didn't say we came for Haddock's _good_."

"We needed the Haddock, you see, Miss Smellie," confirmed Lucille.

"How many times am I to remind you that Haddon Berners' name _is_
Haddon, Lucille," inquired Miss Smellie. "Why must you always prefer
vulgarity? One expects vulgarity from a boy--but a girl should try to
appear a Young Lady."

With an eye on Dam, Lucille protruded a very red tongue at surprising
length, turned one eye far inward toward her nose, wrinkled that
member incredibly, corrugated her forehead grievously, and elongated
her mouth disastrously. The resultant expression of countenance
admirably expressed the general juvenile view of Miss Smellie and all
her works.

Spurred to honourable emulation, the boy strove to excel. Using both
hands for the elongation of his eyes, the extension of his mouth, and
the depression of his ears, he turned upon the Haddock so horrible a
mask that the stricken child burst into a howl, if not into actual
tears.

"What's the matter, Haddon?" demanded Miss Smellie, looking up with