“The dreadful monotony of it!” Phil added, with a laugh.
“That’s its charm.”
“Enough! That will do now,” said Phil presently. “Up you go, boys! To bed! Run! Beat it!”
“Beat it! Beat it!” Jack repeated delightedly.
“Mother won’t let me say ‘beat it,’ ” Carter remarked.
“Won’t she? Well, I suppose she’ll let me say it.”
Carter rushed across the room. “Mother! Mother!” he cried, both on the way and after arrival, “daddy says you’ll let him say ‘beat it!’ Will you? Then why won’t you let me?”
“Sh!” said Catherine, looking a little dazed. “Carter, this is Uncle Stacey’s father. What will he think of you if you shout that way?”
The boy shook Mr. Carroll’s extended hand politely. “But, mother,” he repeated, “daddy said—”
“Yes, I know. You tell daddy that I say he’s a great goose and that geese can say what they please, I suppose. Then run up to bed and see if you can help Jack undress nicely. I’ll come up and kiss you both good night when you’re ready.”