They knew all
the clues. There was the Cornishman--she came from Cornwall--who had
seen a fairy; his adventure never failed to thrill them, though she
used the same words every time and they knew precisely what was
coming. She was particularly strong on family reminiscences:--her
father was bald at thirty, her brother's beard was so long that he
tied it round his neck when playing cricket; her sister 'had the
shortest arms you ever saw.' Always of youth she spoke; it was
pathetic, so determined was she to be young at seventy. Her family
seemed distinguished in this matter of extremes.
But the superiority of Cornish over Devonshire cream was her _piece
de resistance_. Monkey need merely whisper--Miss Waghorn's acuteness
of hearing was positively uncanny--'Devonshire cream is what _I_
like,' to produce a spurt of explanation and defence that lasted a
good ten minutes and must be listened to until the bitter end.
Jimbo would gravely inquire in a pause--of a stranger, if possible, if
not, of the table in general--
'Have you ever seen a fairy?'
'No, but I've eaten Cornish cream--it's poison, you know,' Monkey
would reply. And up would shoot the keen old face, preened for the
fray.
'We haven't been introduced, I think'--forgetting the formal
introduction of ten minutes ago--'but I overheard, if you'll forgive
my interrupting, and I can tell you all about Cornish cream.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161