She turned from the window soon with a sigh of relief.
'He's coming,' she said, 'old Bags is coming, and it's my turn to-day.'
There was no response. Bobby and Billy, the twins, little lads only just promoted from petticoats to knickerbockers, were deeply engrossed in one corner of the room over their bricks. Perched on the top of a low chest of drawers were Douglas and Molly, and their heads were in that close proximity that told that secret business was going on.
Betty's heart sank a little.
'Old Bags is coming,' she repeated; 'don't you hear his bell?'
'We're busy,' said Douglas, looking up; 'we won't have Bags' story to-day.'
'You promised yesterday when you put it off that you would hear it to-day. It isn't fair. I always listen to you.'
'Tell it to the babies; they'll like to hear.'
This was adding insult to injury, and when the twins trotted up to the window Betty turned a defiant back upon them, tears of disappointment dimming the blue eyes.
'She's cwying,' announced Bobby, twisting his head round to look up into her face.