"Clever work!" said the Rich Man. "Was she ever in a Band? In a Jazz Band, you know, with Bantam Rooster whistles? And drums that bark like dogs?"
"In a what?" cried my Father. He was awful mad.
Our Aunt Esta tried to soothe him with something worse. She turned to me.
"Now, Ruthy-the-Rabbit," she said. "Let us see what you can do to redeem the ignominy of your impudent giggling!" She handed me the Bright Green and the Bright Red Celluloid fishes. She poked her wand at me. "Hopping all the way," she said. "Every step of the way, you understand,—bear these two fish to the Head-Waters of the Magic Brook,—the little pool under the apple tree will do,—and start them ex—ex—peditiously down the Brook towards Rosalee!"
"Yes'm," I said.
Our Aunt Esta turned to the Rich Man.
"Foul Menial," she said. "Push my chariot a little further down the Lawn into the shade!"
The Foul Menial pushed it.
My Father pushed a little too.
I hopped along beside them flopping my long ears. Our Aunt Esta looked ex-actly like a Witch! The Rich Man's black face was leaking a little but not much! It would have been easier if he hadn't tripped so often on his plaid shawl skirt! My Father's white wings flapped as he pushed! He looked like an angel who wasn't quite hatched! It was handsome!