Thicker than Water
like a memory on his childish heart-strings and carried him back across the Atlantic.
"Oh, I say, you're a little English girl, are n't you?" He looked up at the head above the fence with mingled joy and astonishment. "You look dref'ly like a lion with so much hair!"
"And—and you're a little English boy, are n't you? Oh, is n't—But I'm not a little girl, though! I'm almost thirteen." Here the lady of thirteen stood up on the very top of the fence to show the full dignity of her height.
"'Course," said Georgie, the diplomat's son, "you is dref'ly big, now I can see your legs!"
Here, he knew, was a friend that must be hung on to. "My name is George Henry Purcell; what's yours, little gi—I mean, please, m'am?" said Georgie, catching himself in time.
"I'm Mary Edif Stanley, and we live on Banbury Road, the real Banbury Road, you know. That's in Oxford, and I've got a tricycle home."
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