The Kitten turned very red.
"Who smacked you?" asked Mr Ffolliot unwisely.
Ger stared at the Kitten, and the Kitten wriggled in her chair.
"Say what you did," muttered Ger, still holding his small sister in compelling gaze.
Nana smiled. She had started with Grantly, and knew the family.
"Fahver," said the Kitten in her most seductive tones, "take me," and she held out her arms.
Mr Ffolliot succumbed. He went round to his youngest daughter and lifted her out of her high chair, only to put her down with exceeding haste a moment later.
"The child is all over some horrible sticky substance," he cried, irritably.
"'At was it," said the Kitten.
Mr Ffolliot fled to wash his hands and change his coat. Nana and Thirza sat down again. Ger shook his head at his small sister. "You are a rotter," he said, sadly.