“No, dear Florence, he preferred that I should not do so.”
“We took him lots of rides,” said Monty.
“And Aunt Anne gave him a present,” said Catty, “and he put it into his pocket and never looked at it. He didn’t know what was inside the paper,—we did, didn’t we, auntie?”
“My dear children,” Mrs. Baines said, “if your mother will give you permission you had better go into the nursery. It is past your hour for bed, my dear ones.”
The children looked a little dismayed, but did not dream of disobeying.
“Was it wrong to say you gave him a present?” asked Catty, with the odd perception of childhood, as she put up her face to be kissed.
“My dears,” answered Aunt Anne, sweetly, “in my day children did not talk with their elders unless they were invited to do so.”
“We didn’t know,” said Monty, ruefully.
“No, my darlings, I know that. Bless you,” continued the old lady sweetly; “and good night, my dear ones. Under your pillows you will each find a chocolate which auntie placed there for you this morning.”
“And did you enjoy the drives?” Florence asked, when the children had gone.