"I think it would make a jolly good play, don't you?" Bertram went on.
Really, thought John, this nephew was a great improvement upon that spectacled inquisitor at Ambles.
"A capital play," he agreed, heartily. "Are you thinking of writing it?"
"V and I thought we'd do it instead of finishing Robinson Crusoe. Well, you see, you haven't got any decent fur rugs, and V's awfully stupid about having her face blacked."
"It's my turn not to be a savage," Viola pleaded in defense of her squeamishness.
"I said you could be Will Atkins as well. I know I'd jolly well like to be Will Atkins myself."
"All right," Viola offered. "You can, and I'll be Robinson."
"You can't change like that in the middle of a play," her brother argued.
John, who appreciated both Viola's dislike of burnt-cork and Bertram's esthetic objection to changing parts in the middle of a piece, strongly recommended Perseus and Andromeda.
"Of course, you got the idea from Kingsley? Bravo, Bertram," he said, beaming with cordial patronage.