"Wise child!" remarked her father, somewhat grimly. "She knows the proper selection to make and whom to put first."
"There were others singing, Constance, besides the ones you mentioned," said her mother.
"Oh, yes; I know. I did not recognize some of the voices. But I knew Mr. Carteret's and Mr. De Vaux's."
"Mr. Carteret is a fine singer."
"Yes, I suppose. But I didn't like the way he sang. He put such a funny tone in his voice. He kind of—— Oh, I don't know how to describe it. It sounded like the way Carlo used to howl after daddy sent Fan over to Amoy."
"Good heavens!"
"And Mr. De Vaux's voice was just like my singing doll after I burst the bellows in her. She could give only one squeak, and then had to wait till I put some more wind into her before she could give another."
"That'll do, Constance; we've had enough of your opinions on singing. Get busy with your breakfast or you'll get none."
"All right, daddy."
"Boy! You tell coolie boys to roll the lawn. Tennis this afternoon. Can savey?"