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Wells, H. G. (Herbert George), 1866-1946

"Twelve Stories and a Dream"


But it was only when we opened the parcels that I really began to be
reassured. Three of them contained boxes of soldiers, quite ordinary
lead soldiers, but of so good a quality as to make Gip altogether
forget that originally these parcels had been Magic Tricks of the only
genuine sort, and the fourth contained a kitten, a little living
white kitten, in excellent health and appetite and temper.
I saw this unpacking with a sort of provisional relief. I hung about
in the nursery for quite an unconscionable time. . . .
That happened six months ago. And now I am beginning to believe
it is all right. The kitten had only the magic natural to all kittens,
and the soldiers seem as steady a company as any colonel could
desire. And Gip--?
The intelligent parent will understand that I have to go cautiously
with Gip.
But I went so far as this one day. I said, "How would you like
your soldiers to come alive, Gip, and march about by themselves?"
"Mine do," said Gip. "I just have to say a word I know before
I open the lid."
"Then they march about alone?"
"Oh, QUITE, dadda. I shouldn't like them if they didn't do that.


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