I endeavored to untangle the arms and legs of the attackers and the attacked in a desire to rescue the youngest, a child of two, but I soon beat a retreat, having no mind to become a punching bag for Polydores.
The concentrator at the writing table, looking up vaguely, perceived the general joust.
“How provoking!” she exclaimed indignantly. “I was in search of an antonym and now they’ve driven it out of my memory.”
I politely offered my sympathy for her loss.
“Did you ever see such misbehaved children?” she asked casually and impersonally as she calmly surveyed the free-for-all fight.
“Children always misbehave before company,” I remarked propitiatingly. “Of course they know better.”