“I prefer urchins,” said the butterfly, who held the net, “and this is a fine specimen. Tommy belongs to the small roguey poguey breed, and will look very nice when I ‘set’ him on cork. At present I shall just pin him down comfortably; where is my little mallet? Oh, thank you,” she said, taking it from a lizard who had kindly carried it for her. “One, two, three, there Tommy will do nicely for the present,” and off they flew, leaving poor Tommy writhing in pain with a large pin stuck right through him.
