how he'll behave. He's a
delightful child, of course, but there is a strain of unbridled pugnacity
in him that breaks out at times in a really alarming fashion. You may
have forgotten the affair of the little Gaffin children; I haven't."

"I was in India at the time, and I've only a vague recollection of what
happened; he was very naughty, I know."

"He was in his goat-carriage, and met the Gaffins in their perambulator,
and he drove the goat full tilt at them and sent the perambulator
spinning. Little Jacky Gaffin was pinned down under the wreckage, and
while the nurse had her hands full with the goat Hyacinth was laying into
Jacky's legs with his belt like a small fury."

"I'm not defending him," said Matilda, "but they must have done something
to annoy him."

"Nothing intentionally, but some one had unfortunately told him that they
were half French--their mother was a Duboc, you know--and he had been
having a history lesson that morning, and had just heard of the final
loss of Calais by the English, and was furious about it. He said he'd
teach the little toads to go snatching towns from us, but we didn't know
at the time that he was referring to the Gaffins. I told him afterwards
that all bad feeling between the two nations had died out long ago, and
that anyhow the Gaffins were only half French, and he said that it was
only the French half of Jacky that he had been hitting; the rest had been
buried under the perambulator. If the loss of Calais unloosed such fury
in him, I tremble to think what the possible loss of the election might
entail."

"All that happened when he was eight; he's older now and knows better."

"Children with Hyacinth's temperament don't know better as they grow
older; they merely know more."

"Nonsense. He will enjoy the fun of the election, and in any case he'll
be tired out by the time the poll is declared, and the new sailor suit
that I've had made for him is just in the right shade of blue for our
election colours, and it will exactly match the blue of his eyes. He
will be a perfectly charming note of colour."

"There is such a thing as letting one's aesthetic sense override one's
moral sense," said Mrs. Panstreppon. "I believe you would have condoned
the South Sea Bubble and the persecution of the Albigenses if they had
been carried out in effective colour schemes. However, if anything
unfortunate should happen down at Luffbridge, don't say it wasn't
foreseen by one membe