Wren, Percival Christopher, 1885-1941 / 2008-11-26 00:00:00

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"'Tithn't a waper. It'th my thword. I made it mythelf."
"Who helped?"
"Nobody. At leatht, Khodadad Khan, Orderly, knocked the holes in the
tin like I showed him--or elthe got the Farrier Thargeant to do it,
and thaid _he_ had."
"Yes--but who told you how to make it like this? Where did you see a
hand-part like this? It isn't like Daddy's sword, nor Khodadad Khan's
_tulwar_. Where did you copy it?"
"I didn't copy it.... I shot ten rats wiv a bow-and-arrow last night.
At leatht--I don't think I shot ten. Nor one. I don't think I didn't,
pwaps."
"But hang it all, the thing's an Italian rapier, by Gad. Some one
_must_ have shown you how to make the thing, or you've got a picture.
It's a _pukka_[5] mediaeval rapier."
"No it'th not. It'th my thword. I made it.... Have a jolly
fight"--and the boy struck an extraordinarily correct fencing
attitude--left hand raised in balance, sword poised, legs and feet
well placed, the whole pose easy, natural, graceful.
Curiously enough, the sword was held horizontal instead of pointing
upward, a fact which at once struck the observant and practised eye of
Major John Decies, sometime champion fencer.
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