'Now do be quiet.

I've got a lot of letters to write.

I'm going to Bournemouth to-morrow with the Lamb--and there's that bazaar.' Anthea went back to x y z, and mother's pen scratched busily.
'But, mother,' said Anthea, when mother put down the pen to lick an envelope, 'the carpet takes us wherever we like--and--' 'I wish it would take you where you could get a few nice Eastern things for my bazaar,' said mother.

'I promised them, and I've no time to go to Liberty's now.' 'It shall,' said Anthea, 'but, mother--' 'Well, dear,' said mother, a little impatiently, for she had taken up her pen again.
'The carpet took us to a place where you couldn't have whooping-cough, and the Lamb hasn't whooped since, and we took cook because she was so tiresome, and then she would stay and be queen of the savages.

They thought her cap was a crown, and--' 'Darling one,' said mother, 'you know I love to hear the things you make up--but I am most awfully busy.' 'But it's true,' said Anthea, desperately.
'You shouldn't say that, my sweet,' said mother, gently.