“Middling nice. You should see how everyone goes on about him.”
“My word!” cried Jonathan, “you girls will be nobodies now. But, I shall stick by you, Milly.”
“Yes,” I answered dubiously, for I had learned already that little girls were of much less importance than little boys. So I shook my head, and gave Jonathan’s promise a doubtful “yes.”
“Tell Ann Oddy,” he said, “that I will be in for a cup of tea at five o’clock.” Then he drove away, and Jane and I walked slowly up the garden path together.
“Father called him John Henry, first thing,” said Jane, “and Mother is proud of him, as never was.”
“I want to see him,” I answered. “Let us go to the children’s room.”
“He is in Mother’s room, and Mother is sick in bed, and Ann is so busy with the boy, she forgot my breakfast, so I had breakfast with Father.”
“Breakfast with Father! Never!”
“Yes, indeed, and dinner, too, for three days now. Perhaps as you have come home, Ann will remember that girls need something for breakfast. Father wasn’t pleased at her forgetting me.”
“What did she say?”