The two boys shook hands, and then Arthur spoke to the three little girls, who were looking as if they would like to speak. Arnold, the eldest, seemed to be half asleep over his book; so they sat down to tea. Arthur was wondering where the father and mother were. It seemed so strange altogether, and he could not help thinking that it was rather a disorderly party. All the children seemed to do very much as they liked, and yet it appeared as if their eldest sister took a great deal of trouble to make them behave properly. She seemed to be constantly putting them right without much effect. Arthur wondered whether this was what gave her face such a tired look.
“Harold, I wish you would let Clara alone. Do take tea properly. Gerald, you know you would not do that if papa were here.” And Maude gave a sigh, as she saw her words had no effect.
“I do wish you would behave properly; what must Edgar’s friend think of you?”
“I dare say he thinks we are something like himself,” said Gerald, “don’t you?”
Arthur laughed, because he did not know what else to do. And then Maude gave a faint laugh.
“What’s the use of keeping on wishing, Maude?” said Arnold, rousing himself. “Why can’t you make them?”
“Well, how would you?” asked Maude.
“Oh, that is quite another thing,” said Arnold, yawning.
“I dare say you could not do it as well as Maude,” said Harold.
“No; very likely not,” said Arnold, laughing, and he returned to his book.