On the landing, he brandished the dagger fearsomely, and Daisy knelt before him, begging for mercy. At least, her attitude denoted that, but all she said was: “A B C D,” in a low, pleading voice. “E F G!” shouted Jim, dancing about in a fierce fury.
Daisy threw out her arms and fairly grovelled at his feet, begging, “H I J K.” “L M!” shouted Jim; “N O!”
Then Daisy’s pretty hair became loosened from its pins, and fell, a shining mass, down her back.
Jim clutched it. “P Q R!” he yelled, as he waved the dagger aloft.
“S T!” moaned Daisy, swaying from side to side, as if in an agony of fear.
“U! V! W!” and the blade of the dagger rested against the fair neck, as the dreadful brigand, with a fierce shout, attacked his victim.
“X Y!” Daisy shrieked, and then toppled over, as if killed, while Jim, with a frenzied yell of “Z!” towered, triumphant, above his slain captive.
How they all laughed; for it was good acting, though of course greatly burlesqued. But both had a touch of dramatic genius, and they had often given this little exhibition in their old school days.
“Fine!” said Adèle, who was shaking with laughter. “You never did it better, Daisy. You ought to go on the stage.”
Daisy smiled and bowed at the applause, and began to twist up her hair.