"What old woman?" asked Grandmamma again.

"Her that makes the cakes," said Duke.

"Oh, Barbara Twiss!" said the old lady in a tone of relief. "Now, my
dear children, kiss Grandpapa and kiss me, and say good-night. I will
explain to you when you are bigger what Nurse meant. God bless you and
give you a nice sleep till to-morrow morning!"

The two little creatures obeyed at once. No "oh, _mayn't_ we stay ten
minutes"'s, "just _five_ minutes then, oh please"'s--so coaxingly urged,
so hard to refuse--of the little ones of our day! No, Marmaduke and
Pamela said their "good-nights" in dutiful fashion, stopping a moment at
the door before leaving the room, there to execute the military salute
and the miniature curtsey, and went off to bed, their curiosity still
unsatisfied, as children's curiosity often had to remain in those times
when "wait till you are big and then you will be told" was the regular
reply to questions it was not easy or desirable to answer otherwise.

There was a moment's silence when they had left the room. Grandpapa's
face was once more hidden in his newspaper; Grandmamma had taken up her
netting again, but it did not go on very vigorously.

"I must warn Nurse," she said at last. "She means no harm, but she must
be careful what she says before the children. She forgets how big they
are growing, and how they notice all they hear."

"It was no great harm, after all," said Grandpapa, more than half, to
tell the truth, immersed in his paper.