And so, with it echoing in his head, his curly head against his father's
shoulder, the bump glistening in the candle-light, the beasts defeated
and derided, he tumbled into sleep.


IV

A pleasant sight at breakfast was Ernest Henry, with his yellow curls
gleaming from his bath, his bib tied firmly under his determined chin,
his fat fingers clutching a large spoon, his body barricaded into a high
chair, his heels swinging and kicking and swinging again. Very fine,
too, was the nursery on a sunny morning--the fire crackling, the roses
on the brown carpet as lively as though they were real, and the whole
place glittering, glowing with size and cleanliness and vigour. In the
air was the crackling smell of toast and bacon, in a glass dish was
strawberry jam, through the half-open window came all the fun of the
Square--the sparrows, the carts, the motor-cars, the bells, and
horses.... Oh, a fine morning was fine indeed!

Ernest Henry, deep in the business of conveying securely his bread and
milk from the bowl--a beautiful bowl with red robins all round the
outside of it--to his mouth, laughed at the three beasts. Let them show
themselves here in the sunlight, and they'd see what they'd get. Let
them only dare!

He surveyed, with pleased anticipation, the probable progress of his
day. He glanced at the pile of toys in the farther corner of the room,
and thought to himself that he might, after all, find some diversion
there. Yesterday they had seemed disappointing; to-day in the glow of
the sun they suggested, adventure. Then he looked towards that stretch