Before the Portraits.
The Uncle. Now, Tommy, you remember what became of Katherine of Aragon, I'm sure? No, no—tut—tut—she wasn't executed! I'm afraid you're getting rather rusty with these long holidays. Remind me to speak to your mother about setting you a chapter or so of history to read every day when we get home, will you?
Tommy (to himself). It is hard lines on a chap having a Sneak for an Uncle! Catch me swotting to please him!
'Arry. There's old 'Enery the Eighth, you see—that's 'im right enough; him as 'ad all those wives, and cut every one of their 'eds off!
'Arriet (admiringly). Ah, I knew we shouldn't want a Catalogue.
The Int. P. Wonderfully Holbein's caught the character of the man—the—er—curious compound of obstinacy, violence, and good-humour, sensuality, and—and so on. No mistaking a Holbein—you can tell him at once by the extraordinary finish of all the accessories. Now look at that girdle—isn't that Holbein all over?
Flippant P. Not quite all over, old fellow. Catalogue says it's painted by Paris Bordone.
The Int. P. Possibly—but it's Holbein's manner, and, looking at these portraits, you see at once how right Froude's estimate was of the King.
F. P. Does Froude say how he got that nasty one on the side of his nose?
A Visitor. Looks overfed, don't he?