"Well--they're having a good old chat with the mater at least," said Cuthbert.
"I haven't confidence in mummy," said Jean. "I can hear her, can't you? Instead of talking about the flower show or the boat races, or something dashing of that sort, she will be saying----"
"Oh, I know," said Mabel. "When Elma was a baby--or was it when Betty was a baby--yes, it was, and saying how cute Cuthbert was when he was five years old----"
"If she does," shouted Cuthbert. "Oh, mother mine, if you do that!" He shook his fist at the open door.
A sound of voices approaching a shut one downstairs came to their ears. Each girl stole nimbly and silently out and took up a position where she could see safely through the banisters. First came the mauve toque with its white osprey quite graciously animated, then a blue and wide one in turquoise, which from that foreshortened view completely hid the shimmering gold of the hair of Adelaide Maud. Mrs. Leighton was weirdly self-possessed, it seemed to the excited onlookers. She had rung for Bertha, who held the door open now in quite the right attitude. Good old Bertha. Mrs. Dudgeon was condescendingly remarking, "I'm so sorry your little girls ran away!"
"Little girls!" breathed four stricken figures at the banisters.
Adelaide Maud said, "Yes, and I did so want to meet them. I hear they are very musical."
"Musical!" groaned Mabel.
"She just said that to be polite--isn't it awful?" whispered Jean.
"Hush."