‘You know that dragon’s head yesterday?’
‘Well?’ Oswald said quickly, but not crossly—the two things are quite different.
‘Well, you know what happened in Greek history when some chap sowed dragon’s teeth?’
‘They came up armed men,’ said H. O., but Noel sternly bade him shut up, and Oswald said ‘Well,’ again. If he spoke impatiently it was because he smelt the bacon being taken in to breakfast.
‘Well,’ Noel went on, ‘what do you suppose would have come up if we’d sowed those dragon’s teeth we found yesterday?’
‘Why, nothing, you young duffer,’ said Oswald, who could now smell the coffee. ‘All that isn’t History it’s Humbug. Come on in to brekker.’
‘It’s NOT humbug,’ H. O. cried, ‘it is history. We DID sow—’
‘Shut up,’ said Noel again. ‘Look here, Oswald. We did sow those dragon’s teeth in Randall’s ten-acre meadow, and what do you think has come up?’
‘Toadstools I should think,’ was Oswald’s contemptible rejoinder.
‘They have come up a camp of soldiers,’ said Noel—ARMED MEN. So you see it WAS history. We have sowed army-seed, just like Cadmus, and it has come up. It was a very wet night. I daresay that helped it along.’