That done, she became abusive. She said:

"Oo naughty--oo naughty, bad unkie--oo bad man--me tell MAR."

And she did, too.

Since then, when my views have been called for I have kept my real
sentiments more to myself like, preferring to express unbounded
admiration of this young person's actions, irrespective of their
actual merits. And she nods her head approvingly and trots off to
advertise my opinion to the rest of the household. She appears to
employ it as a sort of testimonial for mercenary purposes, for I
subsequently hear distant sounds of "Unkie says me dood dirl--me dot
to have two bikkies [biscuits]."

There she goes, now, gazing rapturously at her own toes and murmuring
"pittie"--two-foot-ten of conceit and vanity, to say nothing of other
wickednesses.

They are all alike. I remember sitting in a garden one sunny
afternoon in the suburbs of London. Suddenly I heard a shrill treble
voice calling from a top-story window to some unseen being, presumably
in one of the other gardens, "Gamma, me dood boy, me wery good boy,
gamma; me dot on Bob's knickiebockies."

Why, even animals are vain. I saw a great Newfoundland dog the other
day sitting in front of a mirror at the entrance to a shop in Regent's
Circus, and examining himself with an amount of smug satisfaction that
I have never seen equaled elsewhere outside a vestry meeting.