I used to be just like that, and your father would say, 'Now,
Alice.'"
Her Grace raised her head. Her eyes were a little tired. She looked from
her son to the clouds, and then back again to her son. She was
remembering her own early days, the rich glowing colour of her own
American country, the freedom, the space, the honesty.
"I guess you're tired, dear," said her mother. "With the party to-night
and all. Why don't you go and rest a bit?"
"His eyes _are_ old! He _does_ despise us all."
Lady Emily, who believed in personal comfort and as little thinking as
possible, put her arm through her friend's.
"Come along and give us some tea. He's a dear. Good-bye, you little
darling. He _is_ a pet. There, did you see him smiling? You _darling_.
Tea I _must_ have, Jane, dear--_at_ once."
"You go on. I'm coming. Ring for it. Tell Hunter. I'll be with you in
two minutes, mother."
Mrs. Tunster left her rattle in the nurse's hands. Then, with the two
others, departed. Outside the nursery door she said in an American
whisper:--"Jane isn't quite right yet. Went about a bit too soon.
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