“You don’t seem very happy at it, certainly,” confessed Mabel.
“No nat’ral genius for it like,” suggested the Jacky-Toad.
“We must think of a new subject then. Needlework’s no good to you, nor yet drawing, that I can see.”
“Could ’e teach me a few gude tales ’bout men-folks, or maybe a riddle or two?”
“Certainly not! I’ve brought you to London to improve you.”
“Then why not open the winder an’ let me have a bit of a run round Lunnon to larn what sort o’ plaace ’tis?”
“No. I’m never allowed out myself after dark, and therefore it can’t be a proper thing for a Jacky-Toad. How would you like to learn a little natural science? I don’t know much, but my father knows more than any other man in the world. Natural science explains how it is you’re only a whiff of phosphuretted hydrogen.”
“I guess that’s ’bout enough for me to knaw.”
“Shall I teach you to dance? But I forgot; you can do that.”
“Dance! Aw jimmery! I was born dancin’; I shall die dancin’. No, but I’ll teach you if you mind to try. I’ll larn ’e the ‘Wildfire Gallop’—a butivul thing ’tis sure ’nough as us dances in summer-time under a full mune.”