"I—I—I'll go and see about your supper," said Mrs. Newbolt, and trundled off to hide herself in the dining room.
The best place for a tired little boy to rest is in his bed, not on it, said Newbolt.
Mrs. Newbolt was looking away toward the hills, a dreamy cast in her placid face.
Mrs. Newbolt, entering into the occasion with voluble reminiscences, was having a very good time.
Think of the starvation dullness of living with that Newbolt female, who drops her g's all over the floor!
