“ Hello!” said my aunt as I appeared. “It’s George!”
“ Shall I serve the tea now, Mem?” said the real housemaid, surveying our greeting coldly.
“ Not till Mr. Ponderevo comes, Meggie,” said my aunt, and grimaced with extraordinary swiftness and virulence as the housemaid turned her back.
“ Meggie she calls herself,” said my aunt as the door closed, and left me to infer a certain want of sympathy.
“ You’re looking very jolly, aunt,” said I.
“ What do you think of all this old Business he’s got?” asked my aunt.
“ Seems a promising thing,” I said.
“ I suppose there is a business somewhere?”
“ Haven’t you seen it?”
“‘ Fraid I’d say something AT it George, if I did. So he won’t let me. It came on quite suddenly. Brooding he was and writing letters and sizzling something awful
