When Anna would have tied it around Max’s neck, as she or some other person in her position had done for years, he jerked his head suddenly aside. “Take it away,” he said.
“But, darling,” said Miss Bibby, who [p207] was serving out the porridge, “you must have your bib on; don’t be naughty. Look, it’s the pretty one with Jack Sprat on it. Tie it on, Anna.”
Max ducked skilfully just as Anna brought the tapes together.
“Just look at ’im,” said the girl.
“Come, come, Max,” said Miss Bibby, “you don’t want to spoil that pretty coat with your porridge. Why, it’s your new coat with a pocket in! Let Anna tie it now, quickly.”
Again Anna essayed her task. Max held still till the square of huckaback portraying the economic existence of Jack Sprat and his wife was well beneath his chin, and the tapes gathered once more up into Anna’s hands.
Then he gave a movement like a plunging horse, seized the offending article and flung it with all his force across the table where it fell and floated upon the milk Muffie had poured over her porridge.
“Very well, Anna,” said Miss Bibby, “take the bib away and you need not wait. Master Max does not want any breakfast.”
This was quite true, for Master Max had quite satisfied his morning appetite by a surreptitious ten minutes at the mulberry tree while the three little girls were having their hair brushed.