will do for jujube paste, which I adore,--mild, pleasant, yielding,
delicious.'

'Sticky and insipid!' murmured Madge, plaintively.

'Not at all, my dear. Bell stands for the peppermints; Jack for
chocolates, "the ladies' delight"; Geoffrey for a wine-drop,
altogether good, but sweetest in its heart; Phil--let me see! Phil
is like--what is he like?'

'No more like candy than a cold boiled potato,' said his sister.

'He is candid,' suggested Bell. 'Let us call him rock-candy, pure,
healthful, and far from soft.'

'Or marshmallow,' said Margery, 'good, but tough.'

'Or caramel,' laughed Polly; 'it always sticks to a point.'

'Thanks, gentle creatures,' said a voice from the bushes on the other
side of the pool, and Phil stalked out from his covert, like a
wounded deer.

'How long have you been in there, villain?' cried Bell.

'Ever since lunch; but I only waked from a sound sleep some twenty
minutes ago. I've heard a most instructive conversation--never been
more amused in my life; don't know whether I prefer being a cold
boiled potato or a ladies'-delight!'