Nelly spread a rug for him to lie on, and provided him with a piece of paper, some coloured chalks and a piece of mill board. He turned over on his front and plunged into drawing—
Silence—till Nelly asked—
'What are you drawing, Tommy?'
'Haggans and Hoons,' said a dreamy voice, the voice of one absorbed.
'I forget'—said Nelly gravely—'which are the good ones?'
'The Hoons are good. The Haggans are awfully wicked!' said the child, slashing away at his drawing with bold vindictive strokes.
'Are you drawing a Haggan, Tommy?'
'Yes.'
He held up a monster, half griffin, half crocodile, for her to see, and she heartily admired it.
'Where do the Haggans live, Tommy?'