"This is Pris and this is Prue, and that over there is Punch!" Mrs. Wentworth said, indicating her offsprings.
Pris and Prue lifted small flushed faces from their artistic efforts, and surveyed Lallie with large solemn eyes, and each held out a small hand liberally besmeared with Prussian blue.
"How do you do?" said Pris politely. "I'm seven; how old are you?"
"I'm six," added Prue.
Punch, a rolly-polly person who was apparently engaged in dismembering a woolly lamb, remarked loudly and distinctly, "I'm a boy."
"May I paint?" asked Lallie.
"Oh, do, you can have my seat for a bit. You might do some legs; they run over so, somehow, with me."
Lallie sat down in front of Prue's picture, which was an elaborate Graphic illustration of the "Relief of Ladysmith."
"I'm sure Sir George White's tunic was not pink," Lallie objected. "They wore khaki, you know."
"I don't like khaki; it's the colour of mustard, an' I hate mustard; my new sash is pink, an' I like pink. My soldiers wear pink; you may paint their legs khaki if you like."