Emboldened by that cooing tone, Gwendolyn eyed the Manila bag covetously. "I didn't eat many," she asserted, gently argumentative.
"Oh, a peanut or two won't hurt you, lovie," answered Jane, kneeling to present the bag. Then drawing the pink-frocked figure close, "And you didn't tell him what them two ladies had to say?"
"No." It was decisive, "I told him about—"
"I didn't ask her," interrupted Thomas. "No; I talked about how she loves us. And a-course, she does.... Jane, ain't it near twelve?"
But Gwendolyn had no mind to be held as a tattler. "I told him," she continued, husking peanuts busily, "about the nurse-maid at the brick house."
Jane sat back.
"Ah?" She flashed a glance at Thomas, still shifting about uneasily mid-way between table and door. Then, "What about the nurse-maid, dearie?"
It was Gwendolyn's turn to wax enthusiastic. "Oh, she has such sweet hair!" she exclaimed. "And she smiles nice!"
Jealousy hardened the freckled visage of the kneeling Jane. "And she's taken with you, I suppose," said she.
"She threw me kisses," recounted Gwendolyn, crunching happily the while. "And, oh, Jane, some day may I go over to the brick house?"