“You had aunts too?” queried Wally, with his mouth full.
“Not exactly aunts,” Jim said. “But we had an old Tartar of a housekeeper once, when we were small kids. She ruled us with a rod of iron for about six months, and Norah and I could hardly call our souls our own. Father used to be a good deal away and Mrs. Lister could do pretty well as she liked.”
“I did abominate that woman,” said Norah reflectively.
“I don’t wonder,” replied Jim. “You certainly were a downtrodden little nipper as ever was. D’you remember the time we went canoeing in the flood on your old p’rambulator?”
“Not likely to forget it.”
“What was it?” Wally asked. “Tell us, Jim.”
“Norah had a pram—like most kids,” Jim began.
“Well, I like that,” said Norah, in great indignation. “It was yours first!”
“Never said it wasn’t,” said Jim somewhat abashed by the laughter that ensued. “But that was ages ago. It was yours at this time, anyhow. But only the lower storey was left—just the floor of the pram on three wheels. Norah used to sit on this thing and push herself along with two sticks, like rowing on dry land.”
“It was no end of fun,” said Norah. “You could go!”