the Sword
... Thank God, thank God!...

SEVEN YEARS AFTER.

A beautiful woman, whose face is that of one whose soul is full of
peace and joy, passes up the great staircase of the stately mansion of
Monksmead. Slowly, because her hand holds that of a chubby youth of
five, a picture of sturdy health, strength and happiness. They pass
beneath an ancient Sword and the boy wheels to the right, stiffens
himself, brings his heels together, and raises a fat little hand to
his forehead in solemn salute. The journey is continued without remark
until they reach the day nursery, a big, bright room of which a
striking feature is the mural decoration in a conventional pattern of
entwined serpents, the number of brilliant pictures of snakes, framed
and hung upon the walls, and two glass cases, the one containing a
pair of stuffed cobras and the other a finely-mounted specimen of a
boa-constrictor (which had once been the pride of the heart of a
Folkestone taxidermist).

"Go away, Mitthis Beaton," says the small boy to a white-haired but
fresh-looking and comely old dame; "I'se not going to bed till Mummy
hath tolded me about ve bwacelet again."

"But I've told you a _thousand_ times, Dammykins," says the lady.

"Well, now tell me ten hundred times," replies the young man coolly,
and attempts to draw from the lady's wrist a huge and remarkable
bracelet.

This uncommon ornament consists of a great ruby-eyed gold snake which
coils around the lady's arm and which is pierced through every coil by
a platinum, diamond-hilted sword, an exact model of the Sword which
hangs on the staircase.

"You tell _me_, Sonny, for a change," suggests the lady.

"Velly well," replies the boy.... "Vere was once a Daddy and a
hobberell gweat Thnake always bovvered him and followed him about and
wouldn't let him gone to thleep and made him be ill like he had eaten
too much sweets, and the doctor came and gave him lotths of meddisnin.
Then he had to wun away from the Thnake, but it wunned after him, and
it wath jutht going to kill him when Mummy bwoughted the Thword and
Daddy killed the Thnake all dead. And I am going to have the Thword
when I gwow up, but vere aren't any more bad Thnakes. They is all good
now and Daddy likes vem and I likes vem. Amen."

"_I_ never said _Amen_, when I told you the story, Sonny," remarks the
lady.

"Well you can, now I have tolded you it," permits her son. "It means
_bus_[32]--all finished. Mitthis Beaton