"Ah, yes," the girl acquiesced pleasantly. "I remember now; it's English, of course."
"Oh, no," returned Mrs. Hilary instructively, "it's not English; it's Latin."
The kindergartner was silent. Mrs. Pendleton suppressed a chuckle that strongly suggested her "mammy." Mr. Barlow grinned and Elsie Howard's mouth twitched.
"They are such picturesque children," Mrs. Howard put in hastily. "I wonder you don't paint them oftener."
"I declare I just wish I could paint," Mrs. Pendleton contributed sweetly, "I think it's such pretty work."
Mrs. Hilary was engrossed in the task of putting the twins to rights.
"I don't know what to do with them, they are quite unmanageable," she sighed. "It's so bad for them—bringing them up in a lodging-house."
Mrs. Howard flushed and Mrs. Pendleton's eyes flashed. The dinner bell rang and Elsie Howard rose with a little laugh.
"An English mother with American children! What do you expect, Mrs. Hilary?"
Mrs. Hilary was busy retying a withered blue ribbon upon the left side of Gladys' brow. She looked up to explain: