“No such thing. You’ll come to the meet yourself, Babie, on your Arab.”
“Not she,” said Bobus, in his teasing voice. “She’ll be governessed up and kept to lessons all day.”
“Mother always teaches us,” said Babie.
“She’ll have no time, she’ll be a great lady, and you’ll have three governesses—one for French, and one for German, and one for deportment, to make you turn out your toes, and hold up your head, and never sit on the rug.”
“Never mind, Babie,” said Jock. “We’ll bother them out of their lives if they do.”
“You’ll be at school,” said Bobus, “and they’ll all three go out walking with Babie, and if she goes out of a straight line one will say ‘Fi donc, Mademoiselle Barbe,’ and the other will say, ‘Schamen sie sich, Fraulein Barbara,’ and the third will call for the stocks.”
“For shame, Robert,” cried his mother, hearing something like a sob; “how can you tease her so!”
“Mother, must I have three governesses?” asked poor little Barbara.
“Not one cross one, my sweet, if I can help it!”
“Oh! mother, if it might be Miss Ogilvie?” said Babie.