It was lost, for Bobus and Jock were rolling over together with too much noise to be bearable; Grandmamma turned round with an expostulatory “My dears,” Mamma with “Boys, please don’t when papa is tired—”
“Jock is such a little ape,” said Bobus, picking himself up. “Father, can you tell me why the moon draws up the tides on the wrong side?”
“You may study the subject,” said the Doctor; “I shall pack you all off to the seaside in a day or two.”
There was one outcry from mother, wife, and boys, “Not without you?”
“I can’t go till Drew comes back from his outing—”
“But why should we? It would be so much nicer all together.”
“It will be horribly dull without; indeed I never can see the sense of going at all,” said Janet.
There was a confused outcry of indignation, in which waves—crabs—boats and shrimps, were all mingled together.
“I’m sure that’s not half so entertaining as hearing people talk in the evening,” said Janet.
“You precocious little piece of dissipation,” said her mother, laughing.