Essie gives a little exclamation and stops abruptly, her face all concern. "Oh, you don't say!"
"Yes, I do. Come on."
"The proper sack?"
"Come along. You'll miss your train."
"Oh, bother the old train!" cries Essie. "That's fair done it. I shan't be half miserable thinking of you."
"Why should you?" says Mr. Wriford indifferently.
She replies: "Well, did you ever! Me going off to enjoy myself and thinking of you getting the sack! Oh, that old Whiskyquick, he's a caution!"
"But there's no earthly need for you to mind."
"Why, of course there is," says Essie. "Especially with me going off on a beano like this. Of course there is. My goodness, I know what it is for a lodger when he gets the sack! Whyever didn't you tell us before—all of us? Then we might have talked it over, and ten to one Dad could have advised you. I've seen Dad get a lodger out of a mess before now. Just tell me. Whatever is it for?"
"I hit one of the boys."