"Very good," replied the Presence, as it took the grin off its face, and holding an end in each hand, proceeded to stretch it this way and that, until it was a yard long.
"Why, what a singularly large smile you have!" said Reginald, who by this time had partially recovered his composure. "I never saw anything like it before."
The Presence evidently felt complimented, and proceeded to entertain Reginald further. It fastened one end of the grin to the bureau, and walked to the opposite side of the room, with the other end in its hand.
"Oh, don't," cried Reginald; "it might break!"
But just then the Presence let go of the end it held in its hand, and the grin flew across the room, and settled down to its size when in repose, on the bureau.
"Oh, please put it on again," pleaded Reginald; "because it is so becoming, and when it is off, you look so sad and homely."
So the Presence readjusted its grin, and looked just as it did when Reginald had first beheld it.
"Will you kindly tell me what you are?" asked Reginald, who was really at a loss for a question.
"With pleasure," replied the Presence; "because I am always ready to show myself in my true colors, which are warranted never to fade or wash out, and I am always ready to submit myself to the strictest critical scrutiny." Then the Presence drew itself up proudly, and sang, to a lively measure:
"In reply to your question, so natural, I
Shall be happy to make you a truthful reply,
And inform you that I am a-roaming, care free,
The sprite of the pudding, the Slambangaree.
"Of the pudding of plum, when you've eaten too much,
And you drop into sleep as the pillow you touch.
Oh, you tumble about, and you snore, and you see
Awful things, all produced by the Slambangaree.
"But as now you can't sleep, this occasion I take
All my antics to play on you while you're awake;
And until your plum-pudding's digested, ah, me!
You can bill no farewell to the Slambangaree.