Page 260 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

‘Oh, yes!’ says Frere, unable to withstand the charming
pout that accompanied the words. ‘I’ll play. What am I to
do?’
‘You must walk on this side, and be respectful. Of course
it is only Pretend, you know,’ she added, with a quick con-
sciousness of Frere’s conceit. ‘Now then, the Queen goes
down to the Seashore surrounded by her Nymphs! There
is no occasion to laugh, Mr. Frere. Of course, Nymphs are
very different from you, but then we can’t help that.’
Marching in this pathetically ridiculous fashion across
the sand, they halted at the coracle. ‘So that is the boat!’ says
the Queen, fairly surprised out of her assumption of dignity.
‘You are a Wonderful Man, Mr. Dawes!’
Rufus Dawes smiled sadly. ‘It is very simple.’
‘Do you call this simple?’ says Frere, who in the general
joy had shaken off a portion of his sulkiness. ‘By George, I
don’t! This is ship-building with a vengeance, this is. There’s
no scheming about this—it’s all sheer hard work.’
‘Yes!’ echoed Sylvia, ‘sheer hard work—sheer hard work
by good Mr. Dawes!’ And she began to sing a childish chant
of triumph, drawing lines and letters in the sand the while,
with the sceptre of the Queen.
‘Good Mr. Dawes! Good Mr. Dawes! This is the work of
Good Mr. Dawes!’
Maurice could not resist a sneer.
‘See-saw, Margery Daw, Sold her bed, and lay upon
straw!’
said he.
‘Good Mr. Dawes!’ repeated Sylvia. ‘Good Mr. Dawes!