“No，heonlylivestodogood。”Mrs。Addingreturned。“He’swithRose；
won’tyoucomeinandseethem？”
Rosewaslyingbackonthepillowsofasofa，fromwhichtheywouldnotlethimgetup。HewasfullofthetriptoHolland，andhadalreadypushedKenby，asKenbyowned，beyondtheboundsofhisverygeneralknowledgeoftheDutchlanguage，whichRosehadplansfortakingupaftertheyweresettledinSchevleningen。Theboyscoffedatthenotionthathewasnotperfectlywell，andhewishedtotalkwithMarchonthepointswherehehadfoundKenbywanting。
“Kenbyisanencyclopaediacomparedwithme，Rose。”theeditorprotested，andheamplifiedhisignorancefortheboy’sgoodtoanextentwhichRosesawwasajoke。HeleftHollandtotalkaboutotherthingswhichhismotherthoughtquiteasbadforhim。HewishedtoknowifMarchdidnotthinkthatthestatueofthebishopwiththesparrowonitsfingerwasasubjectforapoem；andMarchsaidgaylythatifRosewouldwriteithewouldprintitin’EveryOtherWeek’。
Theboyflushedwithpleasureathisbanter。“No，Icouldn’tdoit。