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She pressed a cool face against each side her wet and burning countenance, gave kisses, and upon the added stress of this new emotion choked: "Good-bye, little ducklings!" "Oh, darling, darling Miss Humf'ay, we will be good if you'll stay!" They felt this was the desperate threat that so often followed their misdemeanours put into action. She held them, hugging them. "It isn't that.
Angie, dear, dear Angle, kiss me." She rose. Mrs. Chater had come from the stairs, now laid hands upon the small people and dragged them back from the pretty figure about which they clung. They screamed, "Let me go!" David roared; dropped prone upon the mat to kick and howl: "Take away your hand, mother!" Angela gasped: "Oh, comeback, comeback, darling Miss Humf'ay!"
"You're coming back soon, aren't you?" David cried. "You're not going away, are you, Miss Humf'ay?" implored Angela. Mrs. Chater shrilled: "Children, come away. Come here at once." Mary dropped one knee upon the mat; caught her arms about the children.
If Miss Humf'ay tells us to go, then we will go." Bob looked at Mary. "I only want to speak to you for a minute." Amongst the slippery apprehensions in which she had taken flight Mary had struggled to the comfortable rock that Bob's appearance must have been chance, not deliberate how should he have known where to seek them?
Don't you remember that lady that used to talk to Miss Humf'ay and play with us? Well, when we told mother, mother said No, didn't she? and the lady played with those abom'able red-dress children that make faces instead." "Will he play with the abom'able red-dress children that make faces if we tell mother?" "Of course he will." "Why?" "They always do, stupid." "Why?" Angela ran back.
"Oh, Miss Humf'ay, Davie is so irrating! He will say Why ...." There is a lesson for parents in that conversation, I suspect.
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