Poor boy, he thought “neutral” had an imposing look in his history, and he would seize this opportunity to illustrate its beauties.
With that, the entire six sat down in a circle around the raft. Charles and Stephen were resolved on punishment. Jim also. For some reason, George and Will were in favor of pardon.
“Well, boys,” said Will, “of course you can do what you like, but I believe I should let him go—box, and rope, and straps, and all. I perished poor Tip, but I’ve rescued Carlo, and I’m satisfied.”
No doubt Will thought this a very genteel expression. Not so Marmaduke: he sprang to his feet with a gesture of surprise, and said earnestly, “Oh, Will! perish is a neuter verb!”
Will flushed, and moved uneasily from right to left.
“What is all this nonsense about neuters and neutrals?” Steve asked, angrily. “What do we care about your neuters? Botheration, you boys have put off this trial long enough. But,” with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “tell us what a neuter verb is; and then, I hope, we may go on.”
Marmaduke was ill prepared for such a question, and he was never prompt in giving explanations. His face blanched, he sank dejectedly to the ground, took off his hat and toyed with it nervously; took out his handkerchief and feebly tried to blow his nose; looked appealingly at the Sage; and at last began, hesitatingly: “Well, hem, Steve, Stephen, I’m afraid I can hardly make it clear to you, because—because—well, you know, Stephen, you don’t understand grammar very well. Well, perish—but,” brightening and rising, “I’ll just illustrate it for you. Now, you see, I’m standing up. Well,” suiting the action to the word, “I sit down when I go to the ground; but,” suiting the action to the word, “I set down my hat—or you, or any other boy, or a thing, or a word in a book.”
Marmaduke put on his hat and picked up and pocketed his handkerchief with the air of a man who has triumphed.
“Yes,” Steve admitted, “you make it pretty plain, Marmaduke; but these neuter verbs, and conjunctions, and things, were always a muddle to me. But,” guilelessly, “tell me this, and then we must attend to Bob: Is it right to say, I sit myself down, or I set myself down?”
Poor Marmaduke! He was struck dumb; he had a new view of neuter verbs. A look of woe that would have melted a heart of stone passed over his face. He arose and took a seat where Steve could not see him, muttering confusedly: “A neuter verb can’t do anything, but active verbs do.”