"They are preposterously small," he said--"not at all the kind of thing I expected. They will get lost under chairs or buried alive in waste-paper baskets. I wash my hands of them, Take them away, Adela. Let them be fed and put to bed." Then turning to Mr. Danby as if to dismiss the subject, "Anything stirring in London when you were there, Tom?"
Before Danby could answer, Moppet emerged from her shelter, advanced deliberately, and planted herself in front of Sir John Penlyon, looking him straight in the face.
"I'm sorry you don't like us, Mr. Old Gentleman," she said. Every syllable came with clear precision from those infantine lips. Moppet's strong point was her power of speech. Firm, decisive, correct as to intonation came every sentence from the lips of this small personage. Ponderous polysyllables were no trouble to Moppet. There was only an occasional consonant that baffled her.
"Who says I don't like you?" said Sir John, taken aback, and lifting the animated bundle of red cloth on to his knee.
He found there was something very substantial inside the wooly cloak and gaiters: a pair of round plump arms and sturdy little legs, a compact little figure which perched firmly on his knee. "You said so," retorted Moppet, with her large gray eyes very wide open, and looking full into his. "You don't like us because we are so very small. Everybody says we are small, but everybody doesn't mind. Why do you mind?"
"I didn't say anything about not liking you, little one. I was only afraid you were too small to go out visiting."
"I went out to tea when I was two, and nobody said I was too small. I have real tea at parties, not milk-and-water. And I have been out to tea often and often--haven't I, Lassie?"
"Not so many times as I have," replied the elder red thing, with dignity.
She was standing in front of the wide old fireplace, warming her hands, and she was to Sir John's eye somewhat suggestive of a robin-redbreast that had fluttered in and lighted there.
"Of course not, because you're older," said Moppet, disgusted at this superfluous self-assertion on her sister's part. "I am always good at parties--ain't I, Uncle Tom?" turning an appealing face to Mr. Danby.