"It's an atrocious, abominable morning!" grunted Gwen, peering disconsolately through the window into the damp garden. "It's sheer cruelty to be expected to turn out and tramp two miles through the mud. We oughtn't to have to go to school when it rains."
"Wet at seven, fine at eleven!" chirped Beatrice at the coffee pot.
"It's all very well for you to be cheerful and quote proverbs—you haven't to go out yourself, Madam Bee!" grumbled Gwen. "I wonder how you'd like it if—"
"Oh, Gwen, don't whine! Come and get breakfast," interrupted Winnie. "It's five-and-twenty to eight, and I've a strong suspicion the clock's late."
"It is," remarked Lesbia calmly, pausing with her porridge spoon suspended midway between plate and mouth. "Stumps put it back ten minutes last night when Father wasn't looking. I saw him."
A chorus of united indignation followed her information, each member of the family trying to bolt breakfast and scold the offender at the same time.
"We've only five minutes. Oh, you naughty boy!" shrieked Winnie.
"I didn't want to go to bed—I meant to put it on again this morning first thing—I did, honest," protested Giles, otherwise known as "Stumps".
"Lesbia, why couldn't you say sooner?" fretted Gwen.
"Only just remembered."