"Yes. Isn't Uncle Edwin a proud man to have such a big sign?"
"Hsh!"
"It wasn't up yesterday."
"L, i, t, h, o,----"
"My word, Rupy! You are getting on!"
"They're such large letters, aren't they, mother? ... 'Lithographic' ... 'Lithographic printing. Edwin Clayhanger'."
"Hsh! ... Bert, how often do you want me to tell you about your shoe-lace?"
"I wonder if George has come."
"Mother, can't I ring the bell?"
All the children were there, with their screeching voices. Edwin wondered that Rupert should have been brought. Where was the sense of showing a three-year-old infant like Rupert over a printing-works? But Clara was always like that. The difficulty of leaving little Rupert alone at home did not present itself to the august uncle.