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So Teresa’s advent was very warmly welcomed; and sitting down in the rocking-chair she tried to perform the difficult task of amusing Anna and Jasper at the same time. For between Anna of nine and Jasper of six there was very little in common.

Jasper, like the boy Froissart, “never yet had tired of children’s games as they are played before the age of twelve”: these meaningless hidings, and springings, and booings, and bouncings of balls. His mind, too, was all little leaps, and springs, and squeals, and queer little instincts running riot, with a tendency to baby cabotinage. “Don’t be silly, Jasper!” “Don’t show off!” were continually being said to him.

Anna’s mind, on the other hand, was completely occupied with solid problems and sensible interests, namely, “I hope that silly Meg will marry Mr. Brook (she was reading Louisa Alcott’s Little Women). I expect the balls were damp to-day, as they wouldn’t bounce ... it would be nice if I could get a badge for tennis next year. Ut with the subjunctive ... no, no, the accusative and infinitive ... wait a minute ... I’m not quite sure. Every square with a stamp in it—every single square. I wonder why grown-ups don’t spend all their money on stamps. I wonder if Daddy remembered to keep those Argentine ones for me ... little pictures of a man that looks like George—George—George IV., I think—anyhow, the one that didn’t wear a wig ... the Argentine ones are always like that ... that’ll make six Argentine stamps. Brazil ones are pretty, too ... what’s the capital of Brazil again?”