"What's that?" A ridiculous duplicate of Margaret's forefinger pointed to a square separated from the main plan.
"That's a room."
"A room?"
"Surely. Look; there are the two windows and there's the door."
She made no comment and after a moment Gregory forgot her, standing so still, her chin just touching his shoulder.
"There isn't any top on that house," she announced suddenly. "It's a funny house. I don't like it."
At the same moment Margaret Allen appeared in the doorway.
"Why, Gregory, aren't you going to take her? It's after eleven now."
"Um." Gregory was making lines on a separate sheet and heard only the modulated run of the words. He rarely paid any conscious attention to Margaret's remarks in the making, because he could always come in on time at the end.
Puck looked from her father to her mother. Her under lip drew in as her mother's did when she was hurt, but it was with the man's straight look of facing a difficulty that she turned away.