"How is your nose?"

"The carriage exercise is doing it good," said I.

"If," observed Dolly, "he is so silly, now, what will he be at
your age?"

"A wise man," said I.

"He suggested that I might write to him," bubbled Dolly.

Now when Dolly bubbles--an operation which includes a sudden turn
towards me, a dancing of eyes, a dart of a small hand, a hurried
rush of words, checked and confused by a speedier gust of
gurgling sound--I am in the habit of ceasing to argue the
question. Bubbling is not to be met by arguing. I could only
say:

"He'll have forgotten by the end of the term."

"He'll remember two days later," retorted Dolly.

"Stop the carriage," said I. "I shall tell Mrs. Hilary all about
it."

"I won't stop the carriage,"said Dolly. "I'm going to take you
home with me."

"I am at a premium today," I said sardonically.