Lance and Robin roared with merriment, and after one glance at Clement's half virtuous, half offended countenance, Felix and Cherry fell into like convulsions; while Alice exclaimed, 'But who is it?' and Angel shouted the sufficiently evident answer, 'Clement, oh! the howler, the black preaching monkey in a natural surplice!'
'I can't think how you do it!' exclaimed Alice.
'I object to the mantis,' Cherry struggled to say. 'Nasty hypocritical creature that eats things up.'
'Praying for its living, eh, Cherry?' said wicked Edgar. 'If you had ever seen the long thin animal, with head back, hands joined, and pious attitude, you couldn't doubt.'
And as he spoke he sketched his mischievous likeness, at which the mirth grew more furious; while Cherry, always the most easily excited, uttered in a strangled voice, 'A parsnip, a barn-door hen, a dilapidated Guernsey cow, an old mother whale.'
'O Cherry, Cherry, you've immortalized yourself!' shouted Lance. 'How did you hit off the parsnip? the very thing that had stumped me.'
'The colour, and the odd sort of sweetness,' said Cherry.
'Won't we have fun with it when I go back!' cried Lance.—'Not tell? Nonsense! Why, no one will enjoy it like Mother Harewood herself.'
'Only don't say I made it. There, Edgar has got one.'
'Touch-me-not balsam, blister-fly, bantam-cock (full strut), black terrier.'