"Drinky—winky," said Papa.
He put his glass to her shaking mouth. She turned her head away, and he took it between his thumb and finger and turned it back again. Her neck moved stiffly. Her head felt small and brittle under the weight and pinch of the big hand. The smell and the sour, burning taste of the wine made her cry.
"Don't tease Baby, Emilius," said Mamma.
"I never tease anybody."
He lifted her up. She could feel her body swell and tighten under the bands and drawstrings of her clothes, as she struggled and choked, straining against the immense clamp of his arms. When his wet red lips pushed out between his beards to kiss her she kicked. Her toes drummed against something stiff and thin that gave way and sprang out again with a cracking and popping sound.
He put her on the floor. She stood there all by herself, crying, till
Mark came and took her by the hand.
"Naughty Baby. Naughty Mary," said Mamma. "Don't kiss her, Mark."
"No, Mamma."
He knelt on the floor beside her and smiled into her face and wiped it with his pocket-handkerchief. She put out her mouth and kissed him and stopped crying.
"Jenny must come," Mamma said, "and take Mary away."