"She certainly has a keen sense of rhythm," Mrs. Swift laughed. "You've grown up so, Elizabeth, I hardly know my child."
"I'm not really a child any longer, Mother, dear."
"I don't suppose you would care to walk down to the block and get a quart of ice-cream so soon after breakfast, would you, dear?"
"Oh, yes, Mother, I can always eat ice-cream." Elizabeth swept the gingham frock she was making for Madget out of her lap and rose hastily.
"I don't think I've quite lost my little girl," Mrs. Swift smiled.
"For that, Mummy, darling, I won't go. You are just playing tricks on me, the way you always do, and I fall right into the trap the way I always do, and oh, it's so good to have it happening again!"
"You may go for ice-cream if you like, but a maturer Elizabeth might prefer to wait until it was a little nearer dinner time. When you sat down, you were going to whip all the seams in that dress before you moved again."
"I want some ice-cream!" wailed Madget.
"You shall have some bye and bye, dear. Don't you know that nice little girls don't shriek like that?" Elizabeth said.
"Dear me," Mrs. Swift laughed, "I think I'll have to make a kindergarten teacher out of you. You have the professionally maternal manner."