'You mustn't spoil your nice clothes on purpose, Ted and Toddie, but you—you needn't keep on remembering them. Why, they are sensibly-chosen clothes, they will not easily take harm. Some poor little children are always dressed in silks and satins, so grand that they are expected to take great care of them, but your kind mamma likes you to be happy and able to romp about.'
'Silks an' satins!' repeated Toddie. 'Gwacious!—wouldn't we cwumple them all up!'
Mrs. Arderne came into the room, and found the usual picture awaiting her vision—Catherine and the babies laughing together, clinging together, perfectly happy in their merriment.
'Ah, chickies, plaguing "Carr" again. Catherine, dear, in a weak moment yesterday I promised those infants that they should spend Sunday with us, and come to church.'
'We'll be vewwy good.'
'We'll twy dreffully hard not to laugh.'
Catherine kissed them both as she lifted them comfortably on to their chairs close to the table.
'You must promise faithfully not to talk in church, children, not even if there is a funny-looking old lady in front of you, or any naughty little boys try to make you laugh at them.'
'Not if there's anover lady who can't find her pocket, Carr?'
'Or an old, old man wiv a spider cweeping up his back?'