"Nigel, what on earth are you doing?—Hullo, Ivy!"
She looked surprised at the scowling infant perched on her brother's shoulder.
"She's come for the milk, and I'm giving her some breakfast."
"Wan'er go 'ome!" shrieked Ivy.
Nigel looked so mortified that Janey could hardly help laughing—till suddenly she realised that there was something rather pathetic about it all. Nigel had never used to struggle for the good-will of dirty children.
"She'd better come with me," she said, "and I'll give her the milk. Her mother won't like it if she's kept."
Ivy alighted with huge satisfaction on the floor, and left the room with Janey, after throwing a bit of box-lid at the cat.
Janey came back in a few minutes.
"Like to help me get the breakfast, old man?" she asked cheerily.
Nigel was pacing up and down the kitchen.