But she didn't look nearly so well rested as Jan had hoped she would.
After the children's dinner Meg went on duty, and Jan saw no more of the nursery party till later in the afternoon. The creaking wheels of two small wheelbarrows made Jan look up from the letters she was writing at the knee-hole table that stood in the nursery window, and she beheld little Fay and Tony, followed by Meg knitting busily, as they came through the yew archway on to the lawn.
Meg subsided into one of the white seats, but the children processed solemnly round, pausing under Jan's window.
"I know lots an' lots of Clipture," her niece's voice proclaimed proudly as she sat down heavily in her wheelbarrow on the top of some garden produce she had collected.
"How much do you know?" Tony asked sceptically.
"Oh, lots an' lots, all about poor little Jophez in the bullushes, and his instasting dleams."
"Twasn't Jophez," Tony corrected. "It was
Mophez in the bulrushes, and he didn't have no dreams. That was Jophez."
"How d'you know," Fay persisted, "that poor little Mophez had no dleams? Why shouldn't he have dleams same as Jophez?"
"It doesn't say so."