“Worse ever saw!” echoed the baby.
“And all day they were afraid she would be, and she wasn’t and she wasn’t, and she wasn’t. Not till she went to bed. And she said her prayers—that one she says, ‘Herr Jesus, mild und—something—Du’—and then she just looked right up at the ceiling and swore as hard as she could.”
“What in th—time did she say?”
“She said: ‘O Lord! Good Heavens! Damn!’”
“’Oh Lord! Good Heavens! Damn!’”
“Oh!”
“And she got her little hands mighty well slapped, too. She must never say it again, must you, Baby?”
The baby laughed impishly. There was no telling what more she knew.
At exactly half-past six the library doors flew open with a bang, the piano struck up a brilliant march and Minna escorted her charges pompously down the stairs, the baby in white, with a bewildering number of pink bows, Bobbert in a blue sailor suit.