They really were delicious people, so round and so solemn. Hugh, for the moment, was engrossed in Teddy; Teddy having, among other things, a knife with "things in it," most of which he was mercifully unable to open. It was the certainty of being able to do so on the part of Hugh, which made him so deliriously busy. Sara was out of it, having no one as yet to play with, and she was proud and disdainful in consequence. I knew that Betty would shortly have one twin to spare, perhaps two, but this Sara could not guess, knowing nothing of twins. "Now, Sara," I said, "we will build a castle all for our very own selves." "Our velly, velly own selves," said Sara, hugging her spade with ecstasy. "A velly, velly big castle." "Very, very big," I replied. "A bemormous castle?" "An enormous castle," I said, starting to dig the foundations. "Dat's a velly, velly vitty hole," said Sara. "It's going to be a castle, darling." "For Yaya to live in?" "Perhaps." "And Nannie and Aunt Woggles and Hugh and Betty and muvver?" Sara danced with joy at the prospect, and Sara dancing in bathing-drawers was distracting. I dug industriously, however, and it was very hot. Sara looked on, occasionally watering the castle and me too. "Not too much water, darling," I said, "because it makes Aunt Woggles so wet." Sara subsided for the moment. "Is it a velly big castle?" she asked every now and then with evident anxiety. "It's going to be, darling," I said. "It's a velly, velly small castle now," she said sadly. I dug harder and harder, and it seemed to me that the castle was becoming quite a respectable size, but Sara's interest had flagged. "Aunt Woggles," she said. "Yes, darling," I answered. "Sall we dig a velly, velly deep hole, velly, velly deep, for all ve cwabs, and all ve vitty fish, and Nannie and Aunt Woggles?" "A very big hole," I said; "but look at the lovely castle!" "Yaya doesn't yike 'ollid ole castles," she said. I began to dig a hole. One does these things, I find, for the Saras of this world, and Sara was for the moment enchanted, but it didn't last long. "Yaya's so sirsty," she said. "Yaya wants a 'ponge cake." "I think you would rather have some milk, darling," I said. "Yaya's so sirsty," she said in a very sad voice. "Yaya would yike a 'ponge cake!" "Very well, darling; but don't you want to dig any more?" "No," she said. "Yaya doesn't yike digging." Now was that fair?--digging, indeed, when it was the poor aunt who had been digging all the time. When I told Diana of this she shook her head and said,-- "Betty, it frightens me. Do you think Sara will grow up that sort of woman?" "What sort of woman?" "Like Polly in Charles Dudley Warner's 'My Summer in a Garden.' You remember when the husband says, 'Polly, do you know who planted that squash, or those squashes?'" "'James, I suppose.' "'Well, yes, perhaps James did plant them, to a certain extent. But who hoed them?' "'We did.'"