Robin. I'll convince you of it some day. Hark ye, my dear.
[Attempts to whisper.
Nima. Ah! don't bite.
Robin. Bite! what do you take me for?
Nima. A racoon.
Robin. A racoon! Why so?
Nima. You run up the tree.
[Motions as if climbing.
Larry. Well said, my little pagan Pythagoras!—
Ha! ha!
Robin. Hum!