"Twinkle, Star!
Tiddley Wink!
Twinkle on till you dunno where you are!
Oh, we 'll make things warm for 'Arcourt,
If 'e ever comes down our court!*
Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, little St--"
Conscious of a draught upon the back of his neck, the vocalist turned uneasily in the direction of the door. It had opened some six inches, revealing to view a pair of cherubic heads, set one above the other. Each head was furnished with a pair of quite circular blue eyes, which surveyed Mr. Stillbottle, with unwinking and unnerving ecstasy.
"The Funny Man!" proclaimed The Cure joyously.
"Yesh," agreed The Caution. "Lesh box him."
The pair entered the room hand in hand, and advanced grimly to the attack.
Mr. Stillbottle hastily removed his feet from the hob.
"You two," he announced, "can get on out of this. I ain't never done you no 'arm, 'ave I?" he added appealingly; "so why---"
At this point The Caution dealt him a playful but disabling blow in the waistcoat. The Cure, with a shriek of rapture, seized Mr. Stillbottle's frayed coat by the tails and whirled its owner round three times upon his axis.
"Now catch me!" she shrieked.
"If I do--" gasped Mr. Stillbottle, clutching dizzily at the mantelpiece. Further words failed him, and entrenching himself behind a table, he waited like a hunted animal for the further assaults of his enemies.