“I don’t know what a sunshade is, I’m sure,” said Loveday, with a lofty air, “but this is a parasol. I know it said so in the letter that came with it, and the person who bought it ought to know.”
“Which has Priscilla? A sunshade or a parasol?”
“Priscilla hasn’t got either. You see, her birthday is in the winter; it would be silly to give her a parasol.”
“I understand. If your birthday is in the winter, you don’t feel the sun. I expect that is why no one ever gave me one.”
At which idea Loveday shrieked with laughter. “Fancy daddy with a parasol!” she cried. “What a silly daddy you would look!”
And in her excitement she lowered her own, and caught it in Priscilla’s hair.
“Poor Priscilla won’t have a wig or a parasol either, if you aren’t more careful of her,” said Dr. Carlyon, trying to rescue his eldest daughter’s curls from his younger daughter’s parasol.