Joan's interest revived. "Great-big-roarin'-lions," she corrected me. Porgie expressed herself, as usual, in precisely similar terms.
"Yes," I said feelingly, "great big roarers. I expect they'll eat him up quite soon."
Joan looked deeply concerned at this callous prediction, and the corners of Porgie's mouth drooped ominously.
"I don't like roarin' lions," said Joan.
"Don't nike roarin' nions," said Porgie.
"Are they in cages?" suggested Joan hopefully. This was an excellent idea.
"Of course they are," I said with great heartiness.
Joan was not satisfied. "Will they roar when they see Uncle Barney?" she inquired.
This gave me my chance most unexpectedly. "I should just think they will," I said. "If they see him dressed like your black men, they'll roar till the tears pour down their cheeks."
"I 'spect they'd be laughing at him," said Joan, gracefully helping me out.