Marcella, in turn, was fascinated in watching the manoeuvre
with which Jerry concealed the fact that there were not enough knives
and forks to go round. He, being ten, was old and tactful; he cut up his
meat and ate a few swift mouthfuls frowning into quietness the nudging
and protesting brother at his side who wanted his innings with the
knife.
"We seem to be a bit short of usables," said Mrs. Twist, complacently
drinking tea out of a jampot. "It's all along of that bush-fire last
year, when we lost everything."
"We ought to have got out our pannikins," said Marcella, "but we were so
tired and hungry I couldn't think of anything but how nice it was to get
here."
"You can't think how glad I am to see you," said Mrs. Twist. "I haven't
seen a woman since little Millie was born two years ago."
There seemed a million things to talk about. When the last scrap of jam
was satisfactorily disposed of, the seven children scattered in seven
directions. Mrs. Twist and Marcella washed the dishes; Mr. Twist and
Louis smoked on the verandah. A great collie walked sedately into the
room and looked at the cleared table reproachfully. Betty appeared with
an air of magic and found him a plateful of food. The children seemed to
be attached to their mother by invisible wires. At one minute their
voices could be heard, shrieking and calling to each other.
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