"It is not," says the Boodie, with a scorn that puts his in the shade. To be just to the Boodie, she is always eager for the fray. Not a touch of cowardice about her. "How," demands she, pointing to the jelly, with a very superior smile, "how do you think one could live upon that?"
"Why not? I don't see how anyone could possibly desire anything better to live upon."
"Just fancy Robinson Crusoe on it," says the Boodie, with a derisive smile.
"I could fancy him very fat on it; I could also fancy him considering himself in great luck when he found it, or discovered it. They always discovered islands, didn't they? I should like to live on just such an island for an indefinite number of years."
"You are extremely silly," says Miss Beaufort, politely; "you know as well as I do that it wouldn't keep you up."
"Well, not, perhaps, so strongly as a few other things," acknowledges Mr. Browne, gracefully; "but I think it would support me for all that,—for a time, at least."
"Not for one minute. Why, you couldn't stand on it."
"A prolonged acquaintance with it alone might make me totter, I confess," says Mr. Browne. "But yet, if I had enough of it, I think I could stand on it very well."
"You could not," says the Boodie, indignant at being so continuously contradicted on a point so clear. "If you had ten whole jellies—if you had one as big as this house—you couldn't manage it."
"I really beg your pardon," protests Mr. Browne, with dignity. "It is my belief that I could manage it in time. I'm very fond of jelly."