However thoroughly they might divest themselves of parental partiality, they could not but observe that she was as sensible as a grown-up person.
"I thought he might be somewhere near," explained Regie, "in a tree or something," looking up into the little yew.

"You can't tell with a conjurer like Uncle Dick, can you, Auntie Hester, whatever Mary may say ?" "Mary is generally wrong," said Hester, "but she is right for once." Mary, who was early acquiring the comfortable habit of hearing only the remarks that found an echo in her own breast, heard she was right, and said, shrilly: "I told Regie when we was still on the road that Uncle Dick wasn't there.

Mother doesn't always go with father, but he said he'd run and see." "We shall be ver'r late for luncheon," said Fraeulein, hastily, blushing down to the onyx brooch at her turn-down collar, and drawing Mary away.
"Perhaps he left the half-penny with you," said Regie.

"Fraeulein would like to see it." "No, no," said Fraeulein, the tears in her eyes.

"I do not vish at all.