Chapter Eleventh.
"Zeal and duty are not slow:
But on occasion's forelock watchful wait."
—Milton.
"The impudent thing!" exclaimed Mildred to her mother with a flushed and angry face; "putting us and our maid of all work on the same level! Visit her? Not I, indeed, and I do hope, mother, that neither you nor Aunt Wealthy will ever cross their threshold."
"My dear, she probably did not mean it," said Mrs. Keith.
"And now let us go on with our story. You have all waited quietly and politely like good children."
"Gotobed Lightcap! Lightcap! Gotobed Nightcap!" sang Cyril, tumbling about on the carpet. "O Don, don't you wish you had such a pretty name?"
"No, I wouldna; I just be Don."
"There, dears, don't talk now; sister's going to read," said their mother. "If you don't want to be still and listen you may run out and play in the yard."