"You don't suppose I thought our grandmother was everybody's grandmother, you silly boy.

What I say is she's just like a real grandmother--not like Nora Leslie's, who is always scolding Nora's mother for spoiling her children, and wears such grand, quite _young lady_ dresses, and has _black_ hair," with an accent of profound disgust, "not nice, beautiful, soft, silver hair, like _our_ grandmother's.

Now, isn't it true, Sylvia, isn't our grandmother just like a _real_ one ?" Sylvia smiled.

"Yes, exactly," she replied.

"She would almost do for a fairy godmother, if only she had a stick with a gold knob." "Only perhaps she'd beat us with it," said Ralph.
"Oh no, not _beat_ us," cried Molly, dancing about.