“Do you imagine that to be funny, you impertinent little girl?”
“No,” said Joan.
“PERHAPS,” SAID THE VICAR’S WIFE, “YOU ARE SHORT-SIGHTED,
LITTLE GIRL. THAT IS A DONKEY.”
“IT’S MR. SIMPKINS, REALLY,” SAID JOAN EARNESTLY.
There was an innocence in Joan’s face that convinced even the Vicar’s wife.
“Perhaps,” she said more kindly, “you are short-sighted, little girl. That,” pointing to Maria, “is a donkey.”
“It’s Mr. Simpkins really,” said Joan earnestly, “we turned him into a donkey and we can’t turn him back.”
The Vicar’s wife gasped, Mr. Simpkins’ housekeeper gasped, the other members of the Anti-vivisection Society came out to see what it was all about and all gasped. Mrs. Gerald Fitzgerald for the time being abandoned her hysterics to gasp with them.
“What?” said the Vicar’s wife.