From The Black Gloves, by Constance and Gwenyth Little:

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[Note: This is probably the best book I've read in which dandelions painted blue were a belabored plot device.]

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I could almost see a huge question mark hanging above her.

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Father never has, or never will, understand a terse explanation, and in the end I had to draw a map, as usual.

He did not seem much interested, either, after all my trouble.

[Ain't it always the way!]

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"Very clever reasoning," he murmured, and whitewashed it with sarcasm.

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Then, apparently, he did not intend to go away--and the suitcase was only local color, to make it look as though he did.

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I told him about the various paintboxes, and he nodded his head quietly for so long that I began to get dizzy watching him.

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"You're getting hard," said Tony. "I can remember a time when you loved all children, including the Scandinavian."

[OK, so I had not realized that "including the Scandinavian" was a THING! Assuming you also didn't know about this, here's what I've now learned: That copyright notice I stumbled on a few days ago was, for some legalistic reason, a common one at a certain time, with the result that "including the Scandinavian" apparently gained currency as jocular slang. Google results include an Ogden Nash piece by that title (about the Nobel Prize) and a book from 1932 called Vikings of the Gloves (Including The Scandinavian!).]

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"You know those blue dandelions?"

"We've met," I admitted cautiously.

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"What does the nine of spades stand for?"

Grace said "Quarrel," and Dora said "Let me see--"

I waited while Dora saw, and at last she said slowly, "Yes--quarrel."

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Gertrude smiled at Tony and gave Father and me a cold nod to divide between us.

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