“But who is it?” she demanded.
“It must be a new kind of a big doll!” exclaimed a little girl with violent pigtails.
“Why—why—it’s a—it’s a——” Nathan wanted all present to understand that it was sculpture of most poetic motif having to do with the literary ramifications of one W. Shakespeare. But he could not recall the words “sculpture”, “statue” or “bust.”
“It’s a monument!” he choked. “For Julius Cæsar—I mean of Julius Cæsar. He divided Gaul into three parts and they stabbed him!”
“A monument!” cried the Duchess. “Stabbed him! And do you think he’s buried hereabouts, that Bernice-Theresa should be edified with his tombstone for a plaything?”
“You told Ma that Bernie was goin’ to read the best poets. I thought o’ this mon-mon-monument I s-s-seen in Weatherbee’s store. He’s got an ear gone and his nose is bunged and maybe he needs washin’. But as far’s the missin’ ear goes, you could stand it in a corner somewheres so’s his head would be against the wall——”
“My God!” choked the Duchess. “William! William! Where’s William?”
William Chew, the elderly person of color, came forward.
“William,” cried the Duchess, “remove this nightmare. God love us! It looks as if this unspeakable boy had brought Bernice-Theresa the upper half of somebody’s whitewashed corpse!”
“Yes, ma’am!” assented William. “What yo’ want ah should do with it, ma’am?”