The book was brought at once. Her father wrote out the nonsense verse
on his knee and made a funny little illustration in the margin. 'Oh, I
say!' said Jimbo, watching him, while Monkey, lapsing into French,
contributed with her usual impudence, 'Pas tant mal!' They all loved
the illustrations.
The general interest, then, as the way is with children, puppies, and
other young Inconsistencies, centred upon the contents of the book.
They eagerly turned the pages, as though they did not know its
contents by heart already. They praised for the hundredth time the
drawing of the Muddle Animal who
Hung its hopes upon a nail
Or laid them on the shelf;
Then pricked its conscience with its tail,
And sat upon itself.
They looked also with considerable approval upon the drawings and
descriptions of the Muddle Man whose manners towards the rest of the
world were cool; because
He saw things with his naked eye,
That's why his glance was chilly.
But the explanation of the disasters he caused everywhere by his
disagreeable sharpness of speech and behaviour did _not_ amuse them.
They observed as usual that it was 'too impossible'; the drawings,
moreover, did not quite convince:--
So cutting was his speaking tone
Each phrase snipped off a button,
So sharp his words, they have been known
To carve a leg of mutton;
He shaved himself with sentences,
And when he went to dances,
He made--Oh shocking tendencies!-
Deep holes with piercing glances.
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