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Now only a minute before, Flossy, the white kitten, had waked from her nap, and seeing that Dolly was absorbed in her story-book, inferred that kitten comfort was not at the moment needed, and decided to go after a very yellow butterfly out on the Fayre lawn. Stealthily across the grass, Flossy went butterflywards, on tippy-toe.
"Aw, good-afternoon, Mr. Geen!" "Good-afternoon!" responded Phoby. "Who'd ever ha' thought to meet you here, Miss Sanders?" "'Tis a tiring way from Porthleah to St. Ives, Mr. Geen." "Or from Porthleven, for that matter, Miss Sanders." "Especially when you walk it on tippy-toe, which must be extra-wearisome to a body on feet shaped like yours, Mr. Geen." Phoby saw that he was fairly caught.
But we we were not real soldiers; we were super-soldiers. We were not brave; we were super-brave. We went into those trenches; we returned the greeting of the English boys; we lined up to the parapet; we stretched across it to the waistline, and then rose on tippy-toe. I do admit it was a very dark night; at least it appeared so to me. Oh, we were on the brave act, all right, all right.
Even by standing on the chair he was not tall enough to reach the picture; even by standing tippy-toe he could not reach it. There was left but the one alternative he must jump for it, but when he did that he knocked it off. It fell with a loud clack to the floor and broke in two. Then terror seized the heart of David.
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