Mrs. Carley. Toots! don't be naughty and don't mash your ice cream up like that.
Toots. I like it.
Christopher. Me too—it makes soup!
[Copying Toots.
Mrs. Carley. Your collar's crooked, Chris.
[Arranging it.
Christopher. Ouch!
[Squirming.
Mrs. Carley. Phil, shall grandma cut your cake for you?
Philip. No, ma'am, Auntie Georgiana's going