Dennis, the maid who was in charge of the children, and was speaking to Mrs. Brenton, advanced quickly.
"Oh no, Miss Baby, dear, you can't want anything to eat, I am sure! Please ma'am," appealing to Mrs. Brenton, "don't give her anything."
But Miss Baby had her own views on this subject.
"I want some 'oney and some 'am," she said, tearing off her pretty grey fur cap and removing her gloves. "Nasty Dennis, go away! I'm awful 'ungry!"
Betty was making great friends with Caroline.
"I like you," she said candidly; "why have I never met you before? What is your name?" Then she whispered, "I'm going to have a birthday in March; but don't tell Baby, she'll want it too, and she does fuss so when she wants things. How old are you?" Caroline knelt down the better to study the child's brilliantly lovely little face.
Betty Lancing at six had all the charm and distinction of her mother. Already she commanded homage.
"I was only born yesterday," Caroline answered the child, and her voice was not quite steady.
"Oh!" said Betty. She stared at Caroline thoughtfully. "You look very big for a baby," she said, "I've seen littler babies than you. Mrs. Bates, that's the lady that cleans our kitchen sometimes, has a tiny, tiddy little baby, and it is three months—that's older than you, a lot. Your eyes are wet," said Betty pointedly; "are you crying? What for? Has any one smacked you?"
Fortunately at this moment Betty was awakened to a sense of her responsibilities, for she turned and saw her sister regaling herself at the table.