“Yes,” said Mother.
“I wonder whether Father will think I'VE grown,” Phyllis went on, skipping still more gaily. “I have grown already, haven't I, Mother?”
“Yes,” said Mother, “oh, yes,” and Bobbie and Peter felt her hands tighten on their arms.
“Poor old Mammy, you ARE tired,” said Peter.
Bobbie said, “Come on, Phil; I'll race you to the gate.”
And she started the race, though she hated doing it. YOU know why Bobbie did that. Mother only thought that Bobbie was tired of walking slowly. Even Mothers, who love you better than anyone else ever will, don't always understand.
Chapter VIII. The amateur firemen.
“That's a likely little brooch you've got on, Miss,” said Perks the Porter; “I don't know as ever I see a thing more like a buttercup without it WAS a buttercup.”
“Yes,” said Bobbie, glad and flushed by this approval. “I always thought it was more like a buttercup almost than even a real one—and I NEVER thought it would come to be mine, my very own—and then Mother gave it to me for my birthday.”