"I saw a child in the passage," said the other lady. "Let us offer the child a present."
"Ah. That solves the difficulty. But how much? I suppose it must be half-a-crown."
"Nonsense!" said the other lady, tartly. "That is more than the price of the whole meal if she had let us pay for it. A present of a shilling at the outside. No, a shilling is absurd. Sixpence."
"Do you really think so?"
"Yes, sixpence wrapped up in a bit of paper."
"Then you must offer it."
And the other lady did. "Is that your little girl? Oh, what brown eyes—and mamma's pretty complexion. Good afternoon! We are so much obliged. And this is for you, dear—to buy sweeties."
Mavis was not disposed to allow her small princess to take a tip from a stranger's hand; but natural good-breeding forced her to acquiesce.
The ladies looked back at her, waved their hands by the garden gate, and went away talking.
"The child never said 'Thank you.' Badly reared."