“And your Rose Briar,” said the third.
“And your Patty,” said the fourth.
“And your Lucy,” “And your Josephine,” “And your Helen,” “And your Adelaide,” said four more vigorous pairs of lips.
“And we all want you to stand up,” said Verena.
“Good heavens! I did think I had come to the end of my worries. And what on earth does this mean? Penelope, my child, what a hideous bouquet you have in your hand! Come here and kiss father, my little one.”
Penelope trotted briskly forward.
“Do you like my red frock, father?” she asked.
“It is very nice indeed.”
“I thought it wor. And is my hair real tidy, father?”
“It stands very upright, Penelope.”