"Yes, that's old 'got,'" she said.
"He's always coming in. When you want to say, 'I've got a bad pain, so I can't accept your kind invitation'; or when you want to say, 'Excuse more, as I've got to go to bed now'; or quite simply, 'You've got my pencil.'"
"G-o-t, got," said Margery. "G-o-t, got. G-o-t, got."
"With appropriate action it makes a very nice recitation."
"Is that a 'g'?" said Margery, busy with the pencil, which she had snatched from me.
"The gentleman with the tail. You haven't made his tail quite long enough.... That's better."
Margery retired to her study charged with an entirely new inspiration, and wrote her second manifesto. It was this:
G O T
"Got," she pointed out.
I inspected it carefully. Coming fresh to the idea Margery had treated it more spontaneously than the other. But it was distinctly a "got." One of the gots.