human
Leave the door open, ordered Bobby, his eyes on the cookies.
gpt
My, they look good, Norah. How many may we have?
human
Two apiece, and no more, said Norah firmly.
gpt
Bobby! cried Meg from the window where she had wandered with her cakes.
human
Oh, Bobby, here's that horrid Tim Roon and Charlie Black. Look! They're going to throw snowballs at our snow man.