"What then?" piped the cherub.
"You must lay for him," answered the moralist.
Alf was on his feet in a trice.
"At the Canal Turn," he chirped. "Bump him off and then jump on the flat of his face."
The moralist greeted the suggestion with warm approval.
"One up to Alfie!" he cried. "He'll make a jockey and a Christian yet, Alf will."
Ginger handed up a piece of chalk.
Jerry hushed his audience.
"Quiet now, if you please," said he.
He took the chalk and wrote up in sprawling letters on the board: