"Yes, papa," called out Armine. "You see she's chained, and Bobus
won't play, and Babie will be Queen Mab-—"
"I suppose," said the mother, "that it is not harder to bring Queen
Mab in with Perseus than Oberon with Theseus and Hippolyta-—"
"You would have us infer," said the Doctor with grave humour, "that
your children are at their present growth in the Elizabethan age of
culture—-"
But again began a "Well, but papa!" but, he exclaimed, "Do look at
that boy—- Well walloped, dragon!" as Jock with preternatural
contortions, rolled, kicked and tumbled himself with extended jaws to
the rock, alias stand, to which Polly was chained, she remarking in a
hoarse, low whisper, "Naughty boy—-"
"Well moaned, Andromeda!"
"But papa," persisted Janet, "when Oliver Cromwell-—"
"Oh! look at the Gorgon!" cried the mother, as the battered head of
an ancient doll was displayed over his shoulder by Perseus, decorated
with two enormous snakes, one made of stamps, and the other a spiral
of whalebone shavings out of a box.
The monster immediately tumbled over, twisted, kicked, and wriggled
so that the scandalised Perseus exclaimed: "But Jock-—monster, I
mean-—you're turned into stone-—"
"It's convulsions," replied the monster, gasping frightfully, while
redoubling his contortions, though Queen Mab observed in the most
admonitory tone, touching him at the same time with her wand, "Don't
you know, Skipjack, that's the reason you don't grow-—"
"Eh! What's the new theory! Who says so, Babie?" came from the
bottom of the table.
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