"But I do like it," said Frank.
"Oh, papa, you wouldn't have him cut it off," said one of the twins. "It is so handsome."
"I should like to work it into a chair-back instead of floss-silk," said the other twin.
"Thank'ee, Sophy; I'll remember you for that."
"Doesn't it look nice, and grand, and patriarchal?" said Beatrice, turning to her neighbour.
"Patriarchal, certainly," said Mr Oriel. "I should grow one myself if I had not the fear of the archbishop before my eyes."
What was next said to him was in a whisper, audible only to himself.
"Doctor, did you know Wildman of the 9th? He was left as surgeon at Scutari for two years. Why, my beard to his is only a little down."
"A little way down, you mean," said Mr Gazebee.
"Yes," said Frank, resolutely set against laughing at Mr Gazebee's pun. "Why, his beard descends to his ankles, and he is obliged to tie it in a bag at night, because his feet get entangled in it when he is asleep!"