Spurt on the part of the children.
“They are really most distressingly Rude,” she said to Mary. “It’s inexcusable. Tell them to come back. I have something to say to them.”
“They won’t, Mum,” said Mary—though surely aware of the title.
“But I tell you to.”
“It’s no good, Mum. It’s shyness. If they won’t come, they won’t.”
“But, my good woman, have you no control?”
“They always race ’ome like that,” said Mary.
“Then you aren’t fit to control them. As one of the children’s guardians, I—— But we shall see.”
She went her way, a stately figure of passion.
“Orty old Ag,” said Mary, and dismissed the encounter from her mind.