"Then don't you worry either, Mother," said Phyllis, "and we'll all be as good as gold."
Mother sighed and kissed them.
"We'll begin being good the first thing to-morrow morning," said Peter, as they went upstairs.
"Why not now?" said Roberta.
"There's nothing to be good about now, silly," said Peter.
"We might begin to try to feel good," said Phyllis, "and not call names."
"Who's calling names?" said Peter. "Bobbie knows right enough that when I say 'silly,' it's just the same as if I said Bobbie."
"Well," said Roberta.
"No, I don't mean what you mean. I mean it's just a—what is it Father calls it?—a germ of endearment! Good night."
The girls folded up their clothes with more than usual neatness—which was the only way of being good that they could think of.
"I say," said Phyllis, smoothing out her pinafore, "you used to say it was so dull—nothing happening, like in books. Now something has happened."
"I never wanted things to happen to make Mother unhappy," said Roberta. "Everything's perfectly horrid."
