Then Tachana echoed the cry: “Mine!”
The plate, which was of folio size, fell off the table, Tachana and Monina each seized one end and—crash. The two babies shouted with glee as it tore across and Monina clapped her inky little paws.
“Oh! you naughty girls, now see what you have done!” said Guru, turning pale with horror. But Monina’s only reply was to snatch down another print and tear a piece out of it. Then she clutched the pencil from Tachana and across the long lines that she had so gravely drawn, Monina scribbled a perfect spider’s net of flourishes, holding the pencil by the middle and scratching with all her might and main. Guru at last succeeded in putting a stop to her Vandalic energy, and threatened to slap her; but the little imp escaped, skipping about the room and wiping her grimy little fingers on the silk cushions.
In the course of her peregrinations her eye fell on the table on which stood the microscope and she stopped short to stare at it, standing on tiptoe with her hands on the edge of the table. Then she tried to reach it exclaiming:
“My! pretty, pretty!” which being interpreted, meant to convey the idea that she supposed it to be a new toy and intended for her.
“Look at her! naughty, naughty,” said Guru, “now she wants the eye-glass.”
And Guru himself, anxious to prove his superior knowledge, drew the instrument within reach and applied his right eye to the top of the tube.
“In this glass I can see Paris,” he announced.
Tachana had pulled a chair to the table that she might see too; but Monina had gotten ahead of her; she climbed up on the chair, and from thence, on all fours, on to the table, sending the microscope and the rest of the apparatus crashing to the floor.
At this moment a man entered the room. The three little Vandals were turned to stone; Monina on the table, not in the least abashed but very grave and her eyes very wide open; Tachana on the chair, her finger in her mouth and her eyes downcast; Guru looking for a corner where he might hide himself.