Update semantics

src/epub/text/chapter-11.xhtml

@@ -62,7 +62,7 @@
 					<p>“I remain</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:valediction">“Your affectionately little friend</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:signature z3998:sender">“Roberta.</p>
-					<p epub:type="z3998:postscript">“<abbr class="initialism">P.S.</abbr> Mother would send her kind regards if she knew I am writing⁠—but it is no use telling her I am, in case you can’t do anything. But I know you will. Bobbie with best love.”</p>
+					<p epub:type="z3998:postscript">“<abbr epub:type="z3998:initialism">P.S.</abbr> Mother would send her kind regards if she knew I am writing⁠—but it is no use telling her I am, in case you can’t do anything. But I know you will. Bobbie with best love.”</p>
 				</footer>
 			</blockquote>
 			<p>She cut the account of her Father’s trial out of the newspaper with Mother’s big cutting-out scissors, and put it in the envelope with her letter.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-2.xhtml

@@ -163,7 +163,7 @@
 			<p>But there came a dreadful night when the Station Master put on a pair of old sand shoes that he had worn at the seaside in his summer holiday, and crept out very quietly to the yard where the Sodom and Gomorrah heap of coal was, with the whitewashed line round it. He crept out there, and he waited like a cat by a mousehole. On the top of the heap something small and dark was scrabbling and rattling furtively among the coal.</p>
 			<p>The Station Master concealed himself in the shadow of a brake-van that had a little tin chimney and was labelled:⁠—</p>
 			<blockquote class="notice">
-				<p><abbr class="initialism">G.N.E.</abbr> and <abbr class="initialism">S.R.</abbr><br/>
+				<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:initialism">G.N.E.</abbr> and <abbr epub:type="z3998:initialism">S.R.</abbr><br/>
 				34576<br/>
 				Return at once to<br/>
 				White Heather Sidings</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-3.xhtml

@@ -104,8 +104,8 @@
 			<p>“Very well,” said Mother, and I dare say you think that she ought not to have said it. But she remembered about when she was a little girl herself, and she did say it⁠—and neither her own children nor you nor any other children in the world could ever understand exactly what it cost her to do it. Only some few of you, like Bobbie, may understand a very little bit.</p>
 			<p>It was the very next day that Mother had to stay in bed because her head ached so. Her hands were burning hot, and she would not eat anything, and her throat was very sore.</p>
 			<p>“If I was you, Mum,” said <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Viney, “I should take and send for the doctor. There’s a lot of catchy complaints a-going about just now. My sister’s eldest⁠—she took a chill and it went to her inside, two years ago come Christmas, and she’s never been the same gell since.”</p>
-			<p>Mother wouldn’t at first, but in the evening she felt so much worse that Peter was sent to the house in the village that had three laburnum trees by the gate, and on the gate a brass plate with <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">W. W.</abbr> Forrest, <abbr class="degree">M.D.</abbr>, on it.</p>
-			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">W. W.</abbr> Forrest, <abbr class="degree">M.D.</abbr>, came at once. He talked to Peter on the way back. He seemed a most charming and sensible man, interested in railways, and rabbits, and really important things.</p>
+			<p>Mother wouldn’t at first, but in the evening she felt so much worse that Peter was sent to the house in the village that had three laburnum trees by the gate, and on the gate a brass plate with <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">W. W.</abbr> Forrest, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">M.D.</abbr>, on it.</p>
+			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">W. W.</abbr> Forrest, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">M.D.</abbr>, came at once. He talked to Peter on the way back. He seemed a most charming and sensible man, interested in railways, and rabbits, and really important things.</p>
 			<p>When he had seen Mother, he said it was influenza.</p>
 			<p>“Now, Lady Grave-airs,” he said in the hall to Bobbie, “I suppose you’ll want to be head-nurse.”</p>
 			<p>“Of course,” said she.</p>
@@ -153,7 +153,7 @@
 				<header>
 					<p>“<span epub:type="z3998:salutation">Dear <abbr>Mr.</abbr></span> We do not know your name.</p>
 				</header>
-				<p>Mother is ill and the doctor says to give her the things at the end of the letter, but she says she can’t aford it, and to get mutton for us and she will have the broth. We do not know anybody here but you, because Father is away and we do not know the address. Father will pay you, or if he has lost all his money, or anything, Peter will pay you when he is a man. We promise it on our honer. <abbr class="initialism">I.O.U.</abbr> for all the things Mother wants.</p>
+				<p>Mother is ill and the doctor says to give her the things at the end of the letter, but she says she can’t aford it, and to get mutton for us and she will have the broth. We do not know anybody here but you, because Father is away and we do not know the address. Father will pay you, or if he has lost all his money, or anything, Peter will pay you when he is a man. We promise it on our honer. <abbr epub:type="z3998:initialism">I.O.U.</abbr> for all the things Mother wants.</p>
 				<footer>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:signature z3998:sender">“sined Peter.</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:postscript">“Will you give the parsel to the Station Master, because of us not knowing what train you come down by? Say it is for Peter that was sorry about the coals and he will know all right.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-7.xhtml

@@ -67,7 +67,7 @@
 			</blockquote>
 			<p>Then came the name, and after it:⁠—</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
-				<p epub:type="z3998:postscript">“<abbr class="initialism">P.S.</abbr> Thank you very much.”</p>
+				<p epub:type="z3998:postscript">“<abbr epub:type="z3998:initialism">P.S.</abbr> Thank you very much.”</p>
 			</blockquote>
 			<p>“Washing is much easier than ironing,” said Bobbie, taking the clean dry dresses off the line. “I do love to see things come clean. Oh⁠—I don’t know how we shall wait till it’s time to know what presentation they’re going to present!”</p>
 			<p>When at last⁠—it seemed a very long time after⁠—it was <em>the</em> day, the three children went down to the station at the proper time. And everything that happened was so odd that it seemed like a dream. The Station Master came out to meet them⁠—in his best clothes, as Peter noticed at once⁠—and led them into the waiting room where once they had played the advertisement game. It looked quite different now. A carpet had been put down⁠—and there were pots of roses on the mantelpiece and on the window ledges⁠—green branches stuck up, like holly and laurel are at Christmas, over the framed advertisement of Cook’s Tours and the Beauties of Devon and the Paris Lyons Railway. There were quite a number of people there besides the Porter⁠—two or three ladies in smart dresses, and quite a crowd of gentlemen in high hats and frock coats⁠—besides everybody who belonged to the station. They recognized several people who had been in the train on the red-flannel-petticoat day. Best of all their own old gentleman was there, and his coat and hat and collar seemed more than ever different from anyone else’s. He shook hands with them and then everybody sat down on chairs, and a gentleman in spectacles⁠—they found out afterwards that he was the District Superintendent⁠—began quite a long speech⁠—very clever indeed. I am not going to write the speech down. First, because you would think it dull; and secondly, because it made all the children blush so, and get so hot about the ears that I am quite anxious to get away from this part of the subject; and thirdly, because the gentleman took so many words to say what he had to say that I really haven’t time to write them down. He said all sorts of nice things about the children’s bravery and presence of mind, and when he had done he sat down, and everyone who was there clapped and said, “Hear, hear.”</p>