was the rear of Robert's unsuspecting white rompers.
"How's my sweet baby?" Alice began, with treacherous sweetness. He ran to her and clasped her around the knees. She ran a perfidious hand down over the sleeve of his romper, the cuff was soaking wet.
"Oh, Robert!" she cried, "you disobeyed mother, you've been fishing again, Robert!"
He nodded three times, in confirmation, looking at her fearlessly. He was so little, she was so big, and yet he had shattered her complacency. Alice Marcey, the complacent parent, had ceased to exist.
