He might well say so. The nursery floor was covered with a medley of furniture, toys, and miscellaneous articles that clearly had no business there. In her fall Jill had caught hold of a tablecloth, and swept to the ground the remains of the nursery tea. Broken plates, a stream of milk, and bread and butter were mingled with the entangled bodies of the three children. Bumps had escaped from the pillowcase, but was rolling about screaming lustily; Jack was trying to extricate Jill out of the meshes of the broken chair, and a small terrier puppy was dancing to and fro, and worrying at everything in turn.
"Oh it's you, Captain Willoughby," said Jack, getting upon his feet. "It's a pretty mess, I'm afraid."
"You young scamp! I bet you are the originator of it! Your sister is wondering if the ceiling will withstand your onslaughts. Ah, here she is to speak for herself."
A pretty delicate-looking girl with dark hair and eyes and impulsive manner stood at the door.
"Oh, you children!" she exclaimed. "Where is nurse? And what are you doing? Don't you know you ought not to romp like this on Sunday?"
"Nurse is at her tea. She gave us ours too early."
Jill had struggled to her feet by this time, and was rubbing the back of her head ruefully.