“Stop that, Baby,” cried Eileen, severely. “Stop at once.”
But Baby only cried the louder.
“Wait a bit, Baby. Here’s a nice piece of bread and jam,” said Mollie, and the cries ceased instantly.
“I’m goin’ to ask Mum to let’s all have bread and jam for tea,” said Doris. “I’m sick o’ old drippin’—weal sick!”
“So am I,” agreed Eileen. “Other people can have butter and jam together, while we’re scraping along with old dripping. I’m just sick of everything.”
“So am I.”
“And so am I.”
“And so am I.”
“And so am I.”
And then five very disconsolate little girls swung five pairs of very disconsolate legs vigorously as they sat in a row on the wooden verandah. At least, Baby tried to swing hers in unison with the others, but she only succeeded in giving a rather weak kick now and again, as she watched the other legs and tried to munch her bread and jam at the same time.