This was absurd and John was ashamed of himself. It was inevitable that such things would happen, and it was impossible that little Ede should spend all her indoor hours in the nursery upstairs when she was becoming, as her mother said, more nearly a ‘real person’ every day.
She was two and a half, and this afternoon, for instance, she was going to a baby party. Grown-up Edith, her mother, had telephoned the information to the office, and little Ede had confirmed the business by shouting ‘I yam going to a pantry!’ into John’s unsuspecting left ear.
‘Drop in at the Markeys’ when you get home, won’t you, dear?’ resumed her mother. ‘It’ll be funny. Ede’s going to be all dressed up in her new pink dress — ’