Big Game - A Story for Girls

Jack's wife laughed happily.

"Flirt away--it will cheer him up! I'll put the boys to bed, and give

you a fine opportunity. Here they come, back from their walk. I must

hurry, dear, and cut bread and butter. I'll carry down the hat, and put

it on when Jack comes in."

Aunt Margot's appearance at tea was hailed with a somewhat qualified

approval.

"You must talk to us, mother," Jim said sternly; "talk properly, not

only, `Yes, dear,' `No, dear,' like you do sometimes, and then go on

speaking to her about what we can't understand. She's had you all

afternoon!"

"So I have, Jim. It's your turn now. What do you want to say?"

Jim immediately lapsed into silence. Having gained his point, he had no

remark to offer, but Pat lifted his curly head and asked eagerly-"Muzzer, shall I ever grow up to be a king?"

"No, my son; little boys like you are never kings."

"Not if I'm very good, and do what I'm told?"

"No, dear, not even then. No one can be a king unless his father is a

king, too, or some very, very great man. What has put that in your

head, I wonder? Why do you want to be a king?"

Pat widened his clear grey eyes; the afternoon sunshine shone on his

ruffled head, turning his curls to gold, until he looked like some

exquisite cherub, too good and beautiful for this wicked world.

"'Cause if I was a king I could take people prisoners and cut off their

heads, and stick them upon posts," he said sweetly; his mother and aunt

exchanged horrified glances. Pat alternated between moods of angelic

tenderness, when every tiger was a "good, good tiger," and naughty

children "never did it any more," and a condition of frank cannibalism,

when he literally wallowed in atrocities. His mother forbode to

lecture, but judiciously turned the conversation.

"Kings can do much nicer things than that, Patsy boy. Our kind King

Edward doesn't like cutting off heads a bit. He is always trying to

prevent men from fighting with each other."

"Is he?"

"Yes, he is. People call him the Peace-maker, because he prevents so

many wars."

"Bother him!" cried Pat fervently.

Margot giggled helplessly. Mrs Martin stared fixedly out of the

window, and Jim in his turn took up the ball of conversation.

"Mummie, will you die before me?"

"I can't tell, dear; nobody knows."