“Not exactly,” said I.
“Uncommon appetite. Would you mind telling me in the morning what sort of night he had? I shall be curious to know.”
The lady glared too, chiefly because the kid had sprinkled her silk dress with melted butter, and pork gravy and lemonade. He caught her eye once, and said out loud to her—
“Our cat’s called Flossy; what’s your cat called?”
The lady turned away; whereupon the kid began his cheek again.
“That lady,” said he to me and the company at large, “has got a nice dress and a nasty face. I like nice faces bestest—do you?”
“Shut up, or I’ll clout your ear,” snarled I, in a regular perspiration of disgust.
“What’s clout?” inquired he. Then, feeling his ears, “My ears don’t stick out like that man’s over there, do they?”
“Do you hear? shut up, you little fool!”
“We’ve got a donkey at home, and his—”