She poked it. What magnitude to be sure!
Impossible to tow it along.
Under the circumstances, why not take something less cumbersome instead?
There were the Caroline sauce-boats, or the best Anne teapot, hardly, if ever, in use.
Her ideas raced on.
And who could resist those gorgeous grapes, for the train?
Together with their dish....
“Tudor, ‘Harry’!” she breathed.
From the corridor came a hum of voices.
Flinging her wrap about her, Miss Sinquier slipped quietly out by way of a small room, where the Canon preserved his lawn.