He strolled along the terrace, moody and disconsolate,
able to think of nothing to amuse him, and, as he came to the end of
the gardens, he saw a group of French children gathered in front of the
seat on which the little girl was sitting, and, coming nearer, he heard
jeering cries of "Sale Anglaise! Sale Anglaise!"
In a flash Tinker's face shone with a very ecstasy of pure delight, and
he swooped down on the group. The child was clutching the arm of the
seat, and staring at her tormentors with parted lips and terrified
eyes. For their part, they were enjoying themselves to the full. They
had found a game which afforded them the maximum of pleasure, with the
minimum of effort; and just as Tinker swooped down, a cropped and
bullet-headed boy in blue velvet threw a handful of gravel into her
face. She threw up her hands and burst into tears; the children's
laughter rose to a shrill yell; and with extreme swiftness Tinker
caught the bullet-headed boy a ringing box on the right ear and another
on the left. The boy squealed, turned, clawing and kicking, on Tinker,
and, in ten seconds of crowded life, had learned the true significance
of those cryptic terms an upper-cut on the potato-trap, a hook on the
jaw, a rattler on the conk, and a buster on the mark.
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