“Paws down,” said Jim. “Hold ’em thusly. Move not the Chin Piece, the Young Man said. No, and not the Whole of the White and Pink and Blue and Yellow Goose Piece neither.”
Perhaps it is not strictly accurate to state that Jim dropped into poetry as he continued the study of his subject. But certainly he indulged in a kind of language which assumed lyrical form.
“Paws down,” said Jim. “She approacheth her Mouth Piece upon pain of losing her Bun. Paw Pieces quite quiet. Move not the Chin Piece, the Young Man said.”
The blue eyes of Miss Perry were open to their limit. They seemed to devour the slow-ticking clock upon the chimney-piece. At last virtue was able to claim its reward.
“Cream bun, please,” drawled Miss Perry, in a manner that was really ludicrous.
“It can’t possibly be an hour yet,” said Jim.
“It is,” said Miss Perry, with great conviction. “It is honestly.”
“Very good,” said Jim. “Young Man taketh Goose Girl’s word of honor.” He produced a neat-looking white paper packet from his coat pocket. “Goose Girl presenteth Paw Piece,” said he, “to receive Diploma of Merit. A short interval for slight but well-deserved nourishment.”
Miss Perry lost no time in divesting the packet of its trappings. I don’t say positively that her satisfaction assumed an audible form when she beheld the seductive delicacy of its contents. But, at all events, she lost no time in taking a very large bite out of a bun of quite modest dimensions.
“Jim,” said she, “it is quite as nice as the ones that come from Buszard’s.”