"No, thank you, ma," said the small heroine, stifling a sob, and speaking
in a dry, tremulous voice, "I'll have a kidney."
"But I thought you couldn't bear kidneys," exclaimed her mother,
surprised.
"No, ma, I don't like 'em much."
"And you're so fond of kippers!"
"Yes, ma."
"Well, then, why on earth don't you have one?"
"'Cos Jessie's going to have one, and you told me to be original," and
here the poor mite, reflecting upon the price her originality was going
to cost her, burst into tears.
* * * * *
The other three of us refused to sacrifice ourselves upon the altar of
Brown's originality. We decided to be content with the customary
beautiful girl.
"Good or bad?" queried Brown.
"Bad," responded MacShaughnassy emphatically. "What do you say,
Jephson?"
"Well," replied Jephson, taking the pipe from between his lips, and
speaking in that soothingly melancholy tone of voice that he never
varies, whether telling a joke about a wedding or an anecdote relating to
a funeral, "not altogether bad. Bad, with good instincts, the good
instincts well under control."
"I wonder why it is," murmured MacShaughnassy reflectively, "that bad
people are so much more interesting than good."
"I don't think the reason is very difficult to find," answered Jephson.
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