"Why don't they?"
"Because they don't, Miss Hecla."
"That's no reason at all. I'm learning how to make my curtsey quite nicely. If I was to see the King, I'd do it—so." Hecla made a profound dip. "Would he be pleased?"
"I shouldn't wonder but what he would, Miss Hecla."
Hecla made three more curtseys, and then went off on a fresh tack.
"What is it that makes people sneeze? Mrs. Prue sneezed six times this morning."
"Perhaps she'd got a cold."
"No, she said she hadn't. Not one bit of a cold. She said it was just her way. And Auntie Millicent said once—that was when Mrs. Prue was as cross as cross could be—she said it was just poor old Prue's way too. I think Mrs. Prue has a lot of 'ways.' Elisabeth! Oh, look at Trip."
A flock of geese, walking with slow and stately steps across the corner of their field, drew Trip's attention; and in a moment he was off, wildly charging the flock. Off too were the geese, at their best speed, careering along, legs aided by wings. Trip again and again all but overtook them, but the geese would make a fresh spurt and get ahead, and then the dog would urge himself to greater speed.
It was useless to call. He was not an obedient little dog. Elisabeth and Hecla shrieked after him in vain.