She smiled, glancing up at her three nieces in their soft, warm, white dresses, so sweet and simple; their only ornament, a rosebud on a spray of maidenhair, which John had procured for them at Covent Garden late the evening before.
"Now, 'ain't they a pictur'?'" he asked, bending to kiss his grandmother, though he had seen her once before that day, for he had run in the first thing to wish her a happy Christmas.
Their grandmother looked as if she thought so.
"Are you very hungry, dears?" asked Aunt Phyllis.
"Not particularly," answered Agnes; "we had some biscuits when we came home."
"Grandmama did not wish to dine before four, but I am afraid this will seem a long hour to you."
"Oh, no," answered John, "we are not so famished as all that."
"I have brought down some old interesting books for you boys," said Mrs. Headley, "and I want Agnes to help me with this piece of work."
She held up a roll of coarse canvas, only just begun, and asked Agnes to spread it out on the hearthrug.
Hugh had to get up, which he did with a lazy groan, while the girls took the different corners and held them down, Hugh taking a fourth, for the canvas would roll up again.