"Well, it comes out by itself," Percival expostulates, "and I don't even know that it is out, you know; so I should like to know what you think of that?"
"I don't think any thing about it," says Miss Purdie, with a stamp of her little foot. "That stu-pid question of yours! How often have I told you not to use it?"
Very like a little bird, Miss Purdie, with her sharp little glances, with her nimble little hops to and fro, and with her perky little cockings of the head on this side and the other as she encourages an answer.
"Now the grammar lesson and I hope you've both prepared it. Gender of nouns. Masculine, Govern-or. Feminine?"
"Govern-ess," venture the boys, a trifle apprehensively.
"Good boys! Masculine, Sorcer-er. Feminine?"
"Sorcer-ess," says the chorus, gathering courage.
"Masculine, Cater-er. Feminine?"
"Cater-ess," bawls the chorus, thoroughly enjoying itself.
"Not so loud! Masculine, Murder-er. Feminine?"