Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. THE younger child sat bolt upright, her bedclothes wrapped around her. "If you're going down to look at them," she whispered accusingly, "I'm coming, too And Alice'll catch you." "She won't catch me." Her elder sister's voice was scornful, "She's out in the pantry, helping. With the man from Gray's." "All the same, I'm coming. I want to see if it's ice cream in little molds or just the smashed kind with strawberries. And, if Alice won't catch you, she won't catch me." "It'll be molds," said the other, from the depths of experience, "Mother always has molds for the Whitehouses. And Mr. Whitehouse sort of clicks in his throat and talks about sweets to the sweet. You'd think he'd know that's dopey but he doesn't. And, anyhow, it isn't your turn." "It never is my turn," mourned her junior, tugging at the bedclothes. "All right," said the elder. "If you want to go And make a noise. And then they hear us and somebody comes up-" "Sometimes they bring you things, when they come up," said the younger dreamily. "The man with the pink face did. And he said I was a little angel."