“Look here,” interrupted the Court Glover, severely, “you really must not use such disgraceful language. I am not accustomed to it.”
“Why, they are only names,” explained Dick, smilingly.
“Very well, then. Call the creatures thingummybobs; I shall know what you mean—only don’t use those other awful words again, they’re outrageous. Now then, to come to the point—where is that Dodo?”
“I’ll try and find him,” said Dick, obligingly, running off in the direction of some bushes, behind which he imagined that he might possibly find the runaways.
“Is your—er—chopper ready?” said the Court Glover, turning to the executioner.
“He—he—he—ye—es!” giggled that worthy.
“Oh! If you please,” pleaded Marjorie, “I do hope you are not going to execute the poor Dodo. I’m sure he’s very sorry that he took the Little Panjandrum’s gloves, and he will give them back, I know. Please, please, forgive him.”
“He—he—he!” giggled the Executioner again.
“Do be quiet,” shouted the Court Glover.
“Yes, I don’t see anything to laugh at,” said Marjorie indignantly.