Mrs. Procter stared dumbfounded. But she soon recovered. She was accustomed to originalities of this sort in her family.
"So! Well, what am I to do about it?" she asked the small boy.
Peter looked at her stolidly. "I want to see my ears," he repeated. "And I can't only in the mirror."
"Have you lived for five years," asked Mrs. Procter, "without discovering that your ears are attached to your head, and that I can't take them off in order that you may see them?"
"And you can't see the back of your neck either, Peter," cried Suzanna at this juncture. At which disastrous piece of information Peter cried louder.
"Now, Suzanna," exclaimed Mrs. Procter in some exasperation. "What did you tell him that for? Isn't it enough for him to learn in one day that he'll never see his ears without telling him about the back of his neck? Stop your crying, Peter. It's bad enough to have you cry for things that can be mended."
Maizie, attracted by the noise, unable to control her curiosity, appeared at the door. Her face was still sullen, but it also bore a rare expression of stubbornness. Satisfying her curiosity as to the reason for the commotion, she then made her announcement.
"Mother," she began, "I'm not going to wash the window sills upstairs this cleaning morning."
"Now, Maizie," said Suzanna, conciliatingly, "don't you remember Who smiled at you once?"
"M-hm, I remember," said Maizie, without change of expression, "but I'm not going to wash the window sills."