"Yes, Vesuvius. We come from Italy originally, you know. Our skins are the color of the Bay of Naples. We live on dried grapes and ardent spirits. We have glorious fun in the mountain sometimes. Oh! what snapping, and scratching, and tearing! Delicious! There are times when the squabbling becomes too great, and Mother Mountain won't stand it, and spits us all out, and throws cinders after us. But this is only at times. We had a charming meeting last year. So many human beings, and how they _can_ snap! It was a choice party. So very select. We always have plenty of saucy children, and servants. Husbands and wives too, and quite as many of the former as the latter, if not more. But besides these, we had two vestry-men, a country postmaster, who devoted his talents to insulting the public instead of to learning the postal regulations, three cabmen and two 'fares,' two young shop-girls from a Berlin wool shop in a town where there was no competition, four commercial travellers, six landladies, six Old Bailey lawyers, several widows from almshouses, seven single gentlemen and nine cats, who swore at everything; a dozen sulphur-colored screaming cockatoos; a lot of street children from a town; a pack of mongrel curs from the colonies, who snapped at the human beings' heels, and five elderly ladies in their Sunday bonnets with Prayer-books, who had been fighting for good seats in church." "Dear me!" said Harry. "If you can find nothing sharper to say than 'Dear me,'" said the Dragon, "you will fare badly, I can tell you. Why, I thought you'd a sharp tongue, but it's not forked yet, I see. Here they are, however. Off with you! And if you value your curls--Snap!" And before Harry could reply, the Snap-Dragons came on on their third round, and as they passed they swept Harry with them. He shuddered as he looked at his companions. They were as transparent as shrimps, but of this lovely cerulean blue. And as they leaped they barked--"Howf! Howf!"--like barking Gnus; and when they leaped Harry had to leap with them. Besides barking, they snapped and wrangled with each other; and in this Harry must join also. "Pleasant, isn't it?" said one of the blue Dragons. "Not at all," snapped Harry. "That's your bad taste," snapped the blue Dragon. "No, it's not!" snapped Harry. "Then it's pride and perverseness. You want your hair combing." "Oh, please don't!" shrieked Harry, forgetting himself. On which the Dragon clawed a handful of hair out of his head, and Harry screamed, and the blue Dragons barked and danced. "That made your hair curl, didn't it?" asked another Dragon, leaping over Harry. "That's no business of yours," Harry snapped, as well as he could for crying. "It's more my pleasure than business," retorted the Dragon. "Keep it to yourself, then," snapped Harry. "I mean to share it with you, when I get hold of your hair," snapped the Dragon. "Wait till you get the chance," Harry snapped, with desperate presence of mind.