"Georgie"
On Sunday morning when Drusilla was in church and I was left alone, with Matthew Arnold, rampant and much starched on my Vicuna rug, Georgie plunged in and at the sight of his face I remembered the match and guessed the result.
"Come here, old Muffin face." He picked the boy up and collapsed with him into the most comfortable chair in the room.
"You've come to tell me all about it," I said patiently. Indeed I was really pleased to see him then and to feel that the responsibility of Matthew Arnold would now be divided. "Did the Gladiators turn up?" I asked in a tone of friendly interest.
Georgie carefully took his pocket knife away from his young friend and laughed.
"I should think they jolly well did," said he. "My hat! Martin, you should have seen 'em stripped. Not an ounce of superfluous flesh on one of 'em. They were a hefty lot. Directly I saw 'em I guessed we should have a sultry time. And we did."
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