your child, too, you know� . Peter, eat your lettuce or you can’t have any dessert.”

How tired she looked, Hannah Winter thought. Little Martha. Two babies, and she only a baby herself yesterday. How tired she looked.

“I wanna go!” wailed Joan, from her bedroom prison. “I wanna go to-morrow. You promised me. You said I could. I wanna GO!”

“And I say you can’t. Mother has to give up her holiday, too, because of you. And yet you don’t hear me — — ”

“You!” shouted the naughty Joan, great-granddaughter of her great-grandmother, and granddaughter of her grandmamma. “You don’t care. Giving up’s easy for you. You’re an old lady.”