“Not another word. Ink! Paper! Pens!” he commanded, getting off his ostrich and squatting down before a flat stone, while the little gnomes ran hither and thither, getting in each other’s way, and tripping and stumbling about in all directions in their eagerness to do the Ambassador’s bidding.
“Sit down!” he ordered, and the children sat down on the ground in front of him. There was a slight difficulty about the ink at this point, for the gnomes, not being quite strong enough to carry the inkstand, turned it over on its side to roll it forward, and of course spilled all the ink. They managed, however, to gather up some of it in their caps, and so kept the Ambassador supplied.
"Dick suddenly shot up to the height of over six feet."
“Now then! Know all men by these presents,” he began, writing the words down as he spake them.
“He’s going to give us some presents,” whispered Fidge, giving Dick a nudge. Dick shook his head reprovingly, and the little man continued—
“That whereas three children, named respectively—what did you say your name was?”
“Richard Greville Verrinder, Sir.”
“Richard Greville Verrinder, and—what’s your sister’s name?”