pranced like a war-horse

Mary departed, leaving youth clinging to the maternal hands. Master Jack Murchison , his curiosity still cantering towards Marley Down.

“Oh, I say, mother, when are we going to the cottage?”

“Saturday, dear, perhaps.”

“Daddy said we might have tea in the woods.”

“Boys who put pepper on the cat’s nose don’t deserve picnics.”

Master Jack giggled over the originality of the crime. “Old Tom did sneeze!”

“You was velly cruel, Jack,” and Gwen’s face reproved him round her mother’s skirts.

“Little girls don’t know nuffin.”

“I can spell ‘fuchsia,’ I can
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.”