Mrs. F. What a shame, FRED!  Don’t think of such a thing, there’s a good boy!  Say no—­and I’ll give you sixpence!

The Boy (grinning).  Well, Lady, make it a shillin’, and I’ll stay outside—­to oblige you!

Mrs. F. (giving him a shilling).  There’s a good sensible boy!  FREDERIC, have you gone quite mad?  You know you wouldn’t hurt a fly?

    [The GOOLES move away, feeling that they have been trifled
    with.

Mr. F. A fly?  Not for the world!—­but this is only a boy.  I want to know what they’re here for.  Now, my lad, you’re not engaged to be idle, you know.  Just think of the amount of innocent pleasure you would afford by getting into this spiked cradle and letting me rock you.  You won’t?  Well, will you sit on the Spanish Donkey? come!  I’ll give you a leg up and fasten the weights on your legs for you.  You aren’t afraid of a donkey?

    [Bystanders collect in hope of amusement.

The Boy (sulkily).  Not of some Donkeys, Sir, as ain’t quite so sharp as that one, whatever they think theirselves!

[Titters.  Mr. F.F. feels that he has got rather the worst of it, and collapses, with the dismal completeness of a Funny Man; Mrs. F. remains behind to bribe the boy with another shilling to promise her solemnly never on any account to play with any of the tortures.

Mrs. F. (rejoining her husband).  FREDERIC, how can you?  You make me feel perfectly faint when you act like this!

Mr. F. (recovering).  Faint, CECILIA?  Well, I daresay they won’t mind if you sit down in one of these spiked chairs for a minute or two.

Mrs. F. (angrily).  I shall do no such thing, FREDERIC!  And you ought to be ashamed to suggest it!

Mrs. Borrodale (choosing photographs of Nuremberg).  Look, JOHN, what a lovely large one of the Sebald’s Kirche!  I really must have this.  Oh, and the Insel Schutt—­and this of the Schoene Brunnen—­and the view from the Burg—­that makes the half-dozen.  They will be joys for ever, JOHN!  And only three shillings each!  Will you pay the boy for them, JOHN, please—­it’s just eighteen shillings.

John.  Can’t, my dear.  Only half-a-crown in my pocket.  Don’t you remember, I lent you my last sov. not five minutes ago?

Mrs. B. Oh, so you did.  Well, on second thoughts, perhaps this size is rather—­I think I’ll take five of the sixpenny ones instead—­they’re every bit as good.  You can spare me that half-crown, JOHN!

A Patriot (coming out).  Well, it’s just the same ’ere as everywhere else.  All the things “made in Germany”!  Sickenin’ I call it!

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