'
'Yes,' said Cyril; 'Jane used to bite her nails.'
'But I broke myself of it,' urged Jane, rather hurt, 'You know I
did.'
'Not till they put bitter aloes on them,' said Cyril.
'I doubt,' said the bird, gravely, 'whether even bitter aloes (the
aloe, by the way, has a bad habit of its own, which it might well
cure before seeking to cure others; I allude to its indolent
practice of flowering but once a century), I doubt whether even
bitter aloes could have cured ME. But I WAS cured. I awoke one
morning from a feverish dream--it was getting near the time for me
to lay that tiresome fire and lay that tedious egg upon it--and I
saw two people, a man and a woman. They were sitting on a
carpet--and when I accosted them civilly they narrated to me their
life-story, which, as you have not yet heard it, I will now proceed
to relate. They were a prince and princess, and the story of their
parents was one which I am sure you will like to hear. In early
youth the mother of the princess happened to hear the story of a
certain enchanter, and in that story I am sure you will be
interested. The enchanter--'
'Oh, please don't,' said Anthea. 'I can't understand all these
beginnings of stories, and you seem to be getting deeper and deeper
in them every minute.
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