the cave smelled savoury of the hot brown butter, and Vertebrata had a Grogan tail stuck in her hair, and presently they sat down to supper. And it was nearly eight o’clock, but they didn’t know anything about that.
When the serious part of supper was done, and the dessert that was a surprise had been brought and had surprised and gone, Vertebrata’s mother sat up very straight and looked before her without smiling. And she said:—
“Now, something must be done.”
“About what, Leaf Butterfly?” her husband asked.
“Vertebrata doesn’t practise enough and you don’t come home to dinner enough,” she answered, “and something must be done.”
“I did practise—wunst,” said Vertebrata.
“But you should practise once and once and once and once and once and once, and so on, and not have to be told each once,” said her mother.
“I did come home to dinner,” said the Prehistoric Husband, waving his hand at his empty platter.
“But you should come first and first and first and first and first, and so on, and not let the
