"There's toas' too," said the voice from under the net, ignoring the personal application. "Sall we have some?"
"Certainly not," Jan answered with great sternness. "People who riot and brawl——"
"Don't like zose words," the netted one interrupted distastefully (R's always stumped her), "naughty words."
"Not so naughty as the people who do it. Has Ayah had her dinner? No? Then poor Ayah must go and have it, and I shall stay here and tell a very soft, whispery story to people who are quiet and good, who lie in their cots and don't quarrel——"
"Or blawl" came from the net in a small determined voice. She could not let the new word pass after all.
"Exactly ... or brawl," Jan repeated in tones nothing like so firm.
"She kickened and fit me, she did," Tony mumbled moodily as he climbed into his cot: "Can't I box her nor nothing?"
"Not now," Jan said, soothingly. Ayah salaamed and hurried away. She, at all events, had cause to bless Jan, for now she got her meals with fair regularity and in peace.
In a few minutes the room was as quiet as an empty church, save for a low voice that related an interminable story about "Cockie-Lockie and Henny-Penny going to tell the King the lift's fallen," till one, at all events, of the "blawlers" was sound asleep.