Ethel Turner

“ She said “Gweedy pig,” in a voice increasing in tone at each bump; by the time she reached the foot it had developed into a challenge to arms. “Come on,” she cried, running down the hall. Her little fat twinkling legs were irresistible.
In a body they rushed into the deserted study, where Uncle Badgery wrote leaders, recited his lectures, napped, and did similar and solemn things.
“Burn his paper!” suggested Freckles, grasping a handful of the table confusion.
“Frow away his ole stories,” said Bunchie, pausing at the box of mineral specimens. ”

“ Dorrie lamented the loss of such an opportunity for pinching the legs of their relative. Don fell to reading the type-written slip of paper that had been commended to Bridget’s notice, first to herself, then aloud with a prefatory “Ugh!” of disgust.
“‘Mr. Joseph Beeston Badgery has kindly consented to deliver, on the 4th instant, at the rooms of the Society for the Promulgation of Universal Knowledge, the first of a series of lectures on the benefits and pleasures to be derived from vegetarianism. All are cordially invited to attend.’ I’d just like to see him living on carrots and turnips.” ”

“ It was rather hard, considering Freckles had a passion for devilled kidneys, and Dorrie and Don worshipped at the shrine of plum-cake with peel in it, not to mention the extreme partiality of Bunchie for ice-cream.
Uncle Badgery was an editor, also a bon vivant.
To look at him you would never have suspected such things.
He was a little shrivelled-up man, bald, wrinkled, and aged at fifty. His eyes wore a habitually worried and anxious expression that Dorrie said was owing to the “devils” (being an editor’s niece she felt she might use that technical expression without fear of reprimand) . ”

“ Uncle Badgery pushed aside his plate and rang the bell violently, “The man’s a fool,” he said to himself.
Bridget appeared, smoothing laughter creases out of her face with poorest success.
“Bring me the paper,” he said.
“W-w-which paper?” she giggled. ”

“ But Freckles inclined to believe it was solicitude for the punctuality of dinner.
Uncle Badgery rode a new hobby to death every six months, as he had no children. Bimetallism and theosophy had served their turn, and he was now mounted excitedly on vegetarianism.
On the platform he said it was the finest thing in the world. So eloquent were his lectures that several susceptible youths and maidens in his audience became forthwith pure Buddhists. ”

“ They said for a whole month they were going to sweep it out of their minds that there were such troublesome little atoms of humanity belonging to them as Dorrie and Don, Freckles and Bunchie.
No one would have dreamed that the girlish figure in the blouse and sailor hat had a ten-year-old scamp of a son to chastise with slipper and strap, or long-legged daughters to scold into the way they should go.
“Try and avoid funerals,” father said. “I don’t much mind what else you do.”
“The black bottle’s on the second pantry shelf,” said mother. “Half a tablespoonful at each attack.” ”

“ You can advertise anything. And I’ve got elevenpence, and Don has twopence. How much would it cost?”
“I’ve got threepence,” Don said joyously.
“Don’t you remember, Dorrie, Bridget gave me a penny for scrubbing the veranda, because it makes her hands red? Oh, do let’s! How many words could we have? Couldn’t we say sneak as well? He’s going to tell dad about us buying those ice-creams.”
“An’ say ’bout him snoring,” Bunchie said eagerly.
But Freckles leaned back in his chair and looked scornful. “What donkeys girls are!” he said. “Of course you wouldn’t be allowed to put things like that in. ”

“ There would be cries of “boy overboard,” “boy down hold,” “boy caught in engine,” “boy on topmast,” “boy in store room,” till the ship generally would have developed the nerves of a tea-enfeebled female. ”