The babies looked at each other in astonishment.
'Oh, what a mummy!' cried April.
'Poor Flinders!' cried May.
'Did the mummy whip that Flinders with the hand, or with one stick?' asked June, deeply interested.
'I should think with her hand,' said the mother. 'You see, she had spoilt all the nice clothes her mummy had made her for Christmas, and it was very annoying.'
'Yes, but to whip gleich!' exclaimed May indignantly.
'I never did see one mummy like that before,' said April, shaking her head with grave disapproval.
Their mother was silent. She had known the story of Polly Flinders all her life, but had not noticed anything particularly blameworthy in the conduct of Mrs. Flinders. Indeed, as a child she had thought Mrs. Flinders had only done what was quite natural, and no more than the aggravating Polly deserved. It took her, therefore, some moments to readjust her views; but the babies were so frankly horrified that she was sure her views needed readjusting.
'It was a pretty pale blue dress,' she murmured, trying to justify Mrs. Flinders.
'But her foots was cold!' cried May.