“And you’re so fond of kippers!”
“Yes, ma.”
“Well, then, why on earth don’t you have one?”
“’Cos Jessie’s going to have one, and you told me to be original,” and here the poor mite, reflecting upon the price her originality was going to cost her, burst into tears.
* * * * *
The other three of us refused to sacrifice ourselves upon the altar of Brown’s originality. We decided to be content with the customary beautiful girl.
“Good or bad?” queried Brown.
“Bad,” responded MacShaughnassy emphatically. “What do you say, Jephson?”
“Well,” replied Jephson, taking the pipe from between his lips, and speaking in that soothingly melancholy tone of voice that he never varies, whether telling a joke about a wedding or an anecdote relating to a funeral, “not altogether bad. Bad, with good instincts, the good instincts well under control.”
“I wonder why it is,” murmured MacShaughnassy reflectively, “that bad people are so much more interesting than good.”