"Rum is a deadly poison," stated Mrs. Perfect.
"Wisht you'd p'ison me wiv' it, Mum, when you've 'ad enough o' my company," replied Bobball.
Ignoring the remark, Mrs. Perfect addressed the children at large.
"I don't think I ever told you the beautiful story of the little blue-eyed drummer-boy and the bottle of rum, did I?" she asked.
"No," squealed the children in chorus. "Do tell us."
A story was a story even though it were a Perfect one.
"Yes," added the President, "and then Bobball must tell us one too."
Loud cheers.
"Once upon a time," began Mrs. Perfect, eyeing Bobball with extreme disfavour, "there was a regiment of good, self-respecting, total-abstaining men who never drank, nor smoked, nor used langwidge, nor caused their Colonel a moment's anxiety."
A strange sound, as of one who strangled, proceeded from the throat of Bobball, but as the
