Mar had looked up upon their entrance, seemed about to speak, and then dropped a discreet head over his work.
“Where’s the baby?” demanded his wife.
“Sigma—”
“This precious protégé of yours,” interrupted the lady, again straightening the carpet with the toe of her shoe; “this precious protégé of yours has pulled up a plank out of the sidewalk, dragged it across the field down to the duck-pond, and there I found him, using it as a raft.”
“I hadn’t used it—not yet.” A world of lost opportunity was heavily recalled.
“Oh, no, you weren’t using it.”
But the irony was lost.
“Vere wasn’t woom for all of us, so I let Twenn and Hawwy go ve first voyage. I’m vewwy kind to little boys.”
“Oh, indeed! So kind you preferred to risk other children’s lives while you looked on.”
“Looked on? Oh, no, ma’am, didn’t you see I was workin’ like anyfing?” He glanced across at his ally. “It was a steamship, Mr. Mar. I was ve injine. I’m a most glowious injine—”