I nodded, and he turned to Miss Childe.
"That viper," he said, "has stung the fool who feeds him to the tune of eighty pounds. Shall I faint here or by the hat-stand? Let's be clear about it. The moment I enter the swoon——"
"Still, as long as it's in the family——" began Jill.
"Exactly," said I. "The main thing is, we've got it. And when you've heard my tale——"
"Eighty paper pounds," said Berry. "Can you beat it?"
"That'd only be about thirty-five before the War," said Miss Childe in a shaking voice.
"Yes," said I. "Look at it that way. And what's thirty-five? A bagatelle, brother, a bagatelle. Now, if we were in Russia——"
"Yes," said Berry grimly, "and if we were in Patagonia, I suppose I should be up on the deal. You can cut that bit."
Miss Childe and Jill dissolved into peals of merriment.
"That's right," said Berry. "Deride the destitute. Mock at bereavement. As for you," he added, turning to Jill, "your visit to the Zoo is indefinitely postponed. Other children shall feel sick in the monkey-house and be taken to smell the bears. But you, never." He turned to Miss Childe and laid a hand on her arm. "Shut your eyes, my dear, and repeat one of Alfred Austin's odes. This place is full of the ungodly."