"We've got to do something about it," his wife went on. "If their grandmother should come up this summer, she would be deafened."
"It's nothing to worry about," he said, "only misdirected energy. The trouble with young things is that they can't remember to remember. What do they propose to do themselves about it?" and he glanced through the doorway at his children.
My dear young master was going on eating quite comfortably. For once this trouble was none of his. Whatever his faults might be he was no yeller.
"Thpank the howlerths," cried little Big-Wig, who was the worst screamer of all.
"Gate them," said Cassowary in a high-pitched voice.
"Fine them," called Champ.
"Send them to bed," exclaimed Sojer.
"Take away their toys," shrieked Dovey.
"And you Big Chief," said Cassowary pertly, "you with the brassiest voice of all, what say you?"