I braced myself up.
"So do I," said Phyllis.
It looked like trouble.
"Can we go and see the tin soldiers before they go to bed?" said Lillah.
"The horseback ones," added Phyllis.
Oh, this was too simple: a nice quiet look at the guardians of Whitehall, with perhaps a glimpse for the infant mind of the vast resources of the British Empire; a word in season, perhaps, from Uncle James; and a detailed report to Margaret of instruction combined with amusement.
Of course we went.
"This," I said, as Phyllis gazed round-eyed at one of the motionless warriors—"this is but a symbol of the dignity of that great Empire upon which the sun——"
"Soldiers," said Phyllis with a wisdom beyond her years, "like girls to look at them ever so long."
Then she went away to Lillah, and I saw them with their heads close together. A wonderful thing, the child-mind. Only beginning perhaps, but they were learning doubtless to think imperially. The foundation of that pride of race——? I broke the thread of thought and looked up. Instantly I was gibbering with horror.