"Yes—four dolls I have. My mother will give me another if I ask her. Would your mother?"
"Yes," said Barbara, untruthfully.
"That's my governess, Miss Marsh, there, with the green hat, that is. I've had her two months."
"Yes," said Barbara, gazing with adoring eyes.
"She's going away next week. There's another coming. I can do sums, can you?"
"Yes," again from Barbara.
"I can do up to twice-sixty-three. I'm nine. Miss Marsh says I'm clever."
"I'm seven," said Barbara.
"I could read when I was seven—long, long words. Can you read?"
At this moment there arrived the green-hatted Miss Marsh, a plump, optimistic person, to whom Miss Letts was gloomily patronising. Miss Letts always distrusted stoutness in another; it looked like deliberate insult. Mary Adams was conveyed away; Barbara was bereft of her glory.