fined for the most part to Julia and Barbara, and ran more or less
on the following lines:--

_Julia._ Where's Father, Babs?

_Barbara._ In the libery.

_Julia._ Working hard, I suppose?

_Barbara._ Yes.

_Julia._ Or do you think he's sleeping? (_No answer._) Don't you think
father's probably asleep half the time he's supposed to be working?

_Barbara._ Probly. What you got in that bag?

_Julia._ I expect that big armchair he sits in is just a weeny bit too
comfy for real work.

_Barbara._ I've eated up all those choc'lates you did bring me.

_Julia._ Perhaps we'll find some more presently. Do you think Father
writes in his sleep?

_Barbara._ Yes, I fink he does.

_Julia._ Listen to her, Suzie. I expect really he only dreams he's
working. Don't you, Babs?

At this point I thought it advisable, for the sake of preserving
the remnants of my parental authority, to come in to tea. Julia was
handing Barbara a packet of chocolate, and greeted me with an arch
inquiry as to whether I had been busy writing. I replied with a hearty
affirmative.

"You ought to hear what your daughter has been saying about you," said
Julia.

"Oh, and what does Barbara say?" I asked.

"She says that when Father sits in that stuffy little room of his he
usually writes in his sleep. She really does take the most amazing
notice of things, and the way she expresses herself is quite weird."

"So Barbara says I write in my sleep?"

"Yes, you heard her, didn't you, Suzie? Oh, and did I tell you that
the other day, during that heavy thunderstorm, she said that the
angels and the devils must be having a big battle and that she
supposed the angels would soon be going over the top?"

"Come here, Barbara," I said.

Barbara, who at her too fond aunt's request had been granted the
privilege of taking tea in the drawing-room, stuffed the better half
of a jam sandwich into her mouth and came.

"Do you see those rich-looking pink cakes?" I asked her. "You shall
have one as soon as we've had a little talk."

"The biggest and pinkiest one?" demanded Barbara.

"Yes. Now tell me--don't you think that people ought always to speak
the truth, and to be especially careful not to distort the remarks of
others?"

"Yes. Can I have the one with the greeny thing on it?"

"Certainly, in a minute. And don't you think that women are much more
careless of the truth than men?"

"Yes. Can I----"

"Do you love your Aunt Julia?"

"Yes."

"Why?"