“It is the Goose Girl,” said Jim. “You great overgrown thing.”
Miss Perry gave what can only be described as a second crow of human pleasure.
“Why, Jim,” said she, “you’ve got a mustache.”
“The Goose Girl,” cried Jim, “in the blessed old town of London.”
“I’ve been in London three weeks,” said Miss Perry, importantly.
“I’ve been in London three years,” said Jim Lascelles, sadly. “What a great overgrown thing! You are taller than I am.”
“Oh no,” said Miss Perry; “I am only six feet.”
Jim Lascelles declined to be convinced that Miss Perry was not more than six feet until they had stood back to back to take a measurement.
“You are an absolute what-do-you-call-’em!” said Jim. “Are you as fond of bread and jam and apples and old boots as you used to be? Or, let me see, was it Doggo who used to eat old boots in his youth?”
“I never ate old boots,” said Miss Perry, with an air of conviction.