"Well, the fact is, Chris and I were in the middle of a great war with all his soldiers. I had just firmly established fire superiority and was actually on the verge of launching a huge offensive--the one that was going to win the war, in fact--when, as I said, in butted this great clumsy elephant and knocked half of Christopher's army over." "Purely an accident," said John. "_Will_ you keep quiet, or must I make you?" asked Cecilia. "Well, of course," I went on, "finding ourselves suddenly attacked by a common foe, Chris and I naturally joined forces to defend ourselves." "Defend!--" shrieked John. "No, I won't keep quiet another second. Defend! Why, they rushed at me like a couple of wild hyenas." "My dear John," said Cecilia, "_you_ attacked them first, and of course they defended themselves as best they could." "Precisely," I said. "After all, John," said Cecilia, "you ought to be glad your son is so ready to look after himself, instead of calling him a hooligan. You're always shouting about the noble art of self-defence." "Noble art of self-defence _rot_," said John. "There's nothing in the noble art about pushing lead soldiers down a man's neck." "Down your neck?" said Cecilia. "Yes," said John. "I keep trying to tell you and you won't let me. That brute sat on the small of my back while Christopher pushed 'em down. The little beasts all had their bayonets fixed, too." Cecilia and I laughed. "Yes, laugh," said John bitterly. "It _is_ funny that our child should be growing up a Bolshevist; trying to flay his own father. He'll be setting fire to the cat in a week and then you'll have another laugh." "John," shrieked Cecilia, "how dare you? If you say another word about the darling--" The door opened and Christopher came into the room. He seemed to have washed his face or something. Anyway, he looked quite a little angel and that's hardly--however. "I shall tell Chris what you've been saying," said Cecilia. John jumped. "No, no, Cecilia," he said in a strangled voice. "Don't betray me. I--I'm sorry; I withdraw everything. Cecilia, save me. Think of our courting days; remember--" "Christopher," said Cecilia clearly, "you see your father? Go and pull his last remaining hairs out." Christopher looked at her in amazement. Then he walked over to John, climbed on his knee and put an arm round his neck. "I wouldn't hurt you, dear old Dad, would I?" he asked affectionately, looking at his mother in pained surprise. John positively gasped with relief. "Dear old Chris," he said. "Oh, you hypocrite!" said Cecilia. "Coward!" said I. I was sitting on one of those dumpy hassock sort of things. John looked down at me vindictively for a moment and then a horrid smile started spreading about his nasty face. "Christopher," he said very gently, "wouldn't it be a good thing if we pushed Uncle Alan over and knocked his slippers off, and then I'll sit on him while you tickle his feet?"