"So she throws up her hands in despair, but thinks hard again; and at
last she says she has the right sport for 'em and why didn't she think
of it before! This new idea is to bring up her pack of prize-winning
beagles, the sport being full of excitement, and yet safe enough for all
concerned if they'll look where they walk and not stop to read slushy
poems or collect insect life. Sister and brother said beagles, by all
means, like drowning sailors clutching at a straw or something; and the
old lady sent off a telegram.
"I admit I didn't know what kind of a game beagles was, but I didn't
betray the fact when she told me about it. I was over to Egbert Floud's
place next day and I asked him. But he didn't know and he couldn't even
get the name right. He says: 'You mean beetles.' I says, 'Not at all';
that it's beagles. Then he says I must of got the name twisted, and
probably it's one of these curly horns. That's as close as he ever did
come to the name; and until he actually saw the things he insisted they
was either something to blow on or something that crawled. 'Mark my
words,' he says,'they're either a horn or a bug; and I wonder what this
here blond guy will be doing next.
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