‘No, a squeeze will not do,’ said Maurice; ‘it would spoil its beauty; I must put it ever the fumes of carbonic acid.’
‘Maurice, you really must not,’ said Emily.
‘Now do not, dear Maurice,’ said Ada, ‘there’s a dear boy; I will give you such a kiss.’
‘Nonsense; get out of the way,’ said Maurice, turning away.
‘Now, Maurice, this is most horrid cruelty,’ said Lily; ‘what right have you to shorten the brief, happy life which—’
‘Well,’ interrupted Maurice, ‘if you make such a fuss about killing it, I will stick a pin through it into a cork, and let it shift for itself.’
Poor Phyllis ran away to the other end of the garden, sat down and sobbed, Ada screamed and argued, Emily complained, Lily exhorted Claude to interfere, while Reginald stood laughing.
‘Such useless cruelty,’ said Emily.
‘Useless!’ said Maurice. ‘Pray how is any one to make a collection of natural objects without killing things?’
‘I do not see the use of a collection,’ said Lily; ‘you can examine the creatures and let them go.’