"All right. Nobody here but ourselves. I say, I wish I could do this to the real individual. Wouldn't it be a game worth playing? Á bas the old chap. Down with Nap!"
Roy's excitement went beyond bounds. He seized a solid ball belonging to the baby, and aimed with precision.
"Á bas! Empéreur!"
Down came the bust, with a crash, into the fender, and was smashed.
Roy stood still, suddenly conscious of having done a very silly thing, and a shriek sounded in his rear. The door had just been opened, the landlady had appeared, and she was now shaking her fists, and executing a dance of rage.
"I say, Roy,—stop! Don't go on fooling like this. You'll get us all into trouble." Curtis spoke roughly, realising in a moment that matters might become serious. "Tell her you mean nothing by it."
"Mean nothing! But of course I do mean—"
"Roy! Will you hold your tongue? Stop this foolery!"
Roy obeyed; while the woman, shaking her fists, continued to pour out a torrent of abuse, in the midst of which occurred several times the ominous word, "gendarmes."
Curtis went nearer to her and spoke in his quietest tones.