One—William, who had wandered over the flower beds, was suddenly impelled by the general brightness of the day to give vent to his feelings by a burst of song—
"One more river, an' that's the river of Jor—or—or—ordan,
One more river, there's one more river to cross...."
He yelled the words happily in his strident young voice.
Two—The small pessimist again lifted up her voice in a wail. "Oo—oo—oo—oo. I'm tahred of the country. I want to gow 'owm. Oo—oo—oo."
Three—Eglantine, who had surveyed the visitor in outraged silence for a few moments, at last burst forth. She set her thin hands on her thin hips and began.
"An' oo're you ter talk abaht ragamuffins? Queen of Hengland, are yer? An' wot abaht yer own 'at? A-hinsultin' of hother people in hother people's gardings."
Four—The five Poms, excited by the uproar, burst into simultaneous yapping.
Above the horrible sounds of William's song, the pessimist's wails, Eglantine's recriminations, the Poms' yapping, the lady screamed to her nephew.
"I'm going straight home, Bertram. When you have a Christian house to invite me to, perhaps you'll let me know."