DREAM DAYS
suppose you know more about ships than the fellows who make 'em?"
Selina, baffled for the moment, returned to the charge presently.
"Those are funny things, too," she observed. "S'pose they're meant to be trees. But they're blue."
"They are trees," I replied with severity; "and they are blue. They've got to be blue, 'cos you stole my gamboge last week, so I can't mix up any green."
"Didn't steal your gamboge," declared Selina, haughtily, edging away, however, in the direction of Harold. "And I wouldn't tell lies, either, if I was you, about a dirty little bit of gamboge."
I preserved a discreet silence. After all, I knew she knew she stole my gamboge.
The moment Harold became conscious of Selina's stealthy approach, he dropped his pencil and flung himself flat upon the table, protecting thus his literary efforts from chilling criticism by the interposed thickness of his person. From somewhere in his interior pro-
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