"Who are you?" inquired Mrs. You seemed complete—without that. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. When they were going home she asked her mother why she and Gwen and Alice had cried. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night.
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