"Shall I give you another doll?" said Carson, smiling amiably.
"No, thank you," replied Margery, shaking her curls, "I must keep Charlotte Corday after she has suffered so much for the cause."
"Ah! that is my Margery," roared Drabble; "she's a true chip of the old block."
"True chip of the gallows!" growled Semberry, who hated the doctor.
"When our day comes, there will be no gallows," retorted Dr. Drabble.
"Guillotines only, I suppose," said Aldean, with a twinkle.
"There will be love and fraternity, and equality."
"Be my brother or I will kill you," quoted Tui. "I've heard that sentiment before, Dr. Drabble."
"Miss Ostergaard, I thought you were a disciple of mine."
Major Semberry appeared disturbed. "Nasty word 'murder,' in a young lady's mouth;" he jerked; "let's talk of something agreeable."
"Of Olive, for instance," smiled Angus. "Olives are always agreeable."
"After dinner only," said Miss Bellairs, spoiling the pun, "I don't feel complimented, Angus, by your comparison."
"And you are a smiling cabbage," muttered Tui, turning away. "Lord Aldean, take me to the tent."
"The Major is not engaged," hinted Aldean, slyly.
"Neither am I," retorted Miss Ostergaard, "so there is still a chance for your lordship;" and she led him away wondering if he could not construe a confession of love from her last remark.
While this desultory conversation was going on, Miss Slarge had the Rector well in hand, and was bombarding him with hard Babylonic facts. "Our Good Friday hot cross-bun is an emblem of idolatry," she was saying; "we should tread it underfoot rather than eat it."
"Oh, my dear lady," remonstrated the shocked Mr. Brock, "it is stamped with the sacred symbol of our religion!"
"I don't care what it is stamped with; it is none other than the sacred bread of Babylon, which was offered to the pagan queen of Heaven fifteen hundred and more years before the Christian era. Even the name is the same. The sacred cake was called 'boun;' our Good Friday cake is termed 'bun.'"
"With or without the article, it is the same thing. 'Boun;' 'bun'--what can be plainer? The first is pure Chaldee, the last Scottish."
"I don't understand Chaldee, Miss Slarge," said Mr. Brock, in hope of changing the conversation. "What a pleasant scene this is."