lose a new one if it lingers to take in the old. Every vital point in a
tale must be given a certain amount of time: by an anticipatory pause,
by some form of vocal or repetitive emphasis, and by actual time. But
even more than other tales does the funny story demand this. It cannot
be funny without it.

Everyone who is familiar with the theatre must have noticed how careful
all comedians are to give this pause for appreciation and laughter.
Often the opportunity is crudely given, or too liberally offered; and
that offends. But in a reasonable degree the practice is undoubtedly
necessary to any form of humorous expression.

A remarkably good example of the type of humorous story to which these
principles of method apply, is the story of _Epaminondas_ on page 92. It
will be plain to any reader that all the several funny crises are of the
perfectly unmistakable sort children like, and that, moreover, these
funny spots are not only easy to see; they are easy to foresee. The
teller can hardly help sharing the joke in advance, and the tale is an
excellent one with which to practise for power in the points mentioned.

Epaminondas is a valuable little rascal from other points of view, and
I mean to return to him, to point a moral. But at the moment I want
space for a word or two about the matter of variety of subject and style
in school stories.

There are two wholly different kinds of story which are equally
necessary for children, I believe, and which ought to be given in about
the proportion of one to three, in favour of the second kind; I make the
ratio uneven because the first kind is more dominating in its effect.