“Oh no, Rose will pacify her,” said Lucy.
“I am sure I wish she would tell,” said Eleanor, a much graver little person than Lucy; “Walter is too bad.”
“It is only to save Diggory the trouble of taking a crabstick to her when he returns from the wars,” said Walter. “Heigh ho!” and he threw himself on the bench, and drummed on the table. “I wish I was there! I wonder what is doing at Worcester this minute!”
“When will brother Edmund come?” asked Charlie for about the hundredth time.
“When the battle is fought, and the battle is won, and King Charles enjoys his own again! Hurrah!” shouted Walter, jumping up, and beginning to sing—
“For forty years our royal throne
Has been his father’s and his own.”
Lucy joined in with—
“Nor is there anyone but he
With right can there a sharer be.”
“How can you make such a noise?” said Eleanor, stopping her ears, by which she provoked Walter to go on roaring into them, while he pulled down her hand—
“For who better may
The right sceptre sway
Than he whose right it is to reign;
Then look for no peace,
For the war will never cease
Till the King enjoys his own again.”