“God ’elp me, what will it be now?” thought Andy, as he braced himself for the next question.
“Andy, what is a camisole?”
A look of profound relief crossed the little Australian’s face.
“A camisole,” he explained with an air of wisdom, “is a fish. It’s a——”
He was interrupted by Connie’s peal of laughter. “Oh, Andy,” she cried, “you’re a funny man!” She turned and ran laughing down the hill.
“Strike me lucky!” exclaimed Andy as he mopped his brow. “It’s enough to make a blighter’s ’eart bleed. The poor motherless kid comin’ to a bloke like me to ask such questions.”
He watched Connie as she slowly ascended the trail, still studying the magazine pages.
“But ’ow the ’ell can I ’elp ’er?”
He pondered deeply for a moment, but, seemingly unable to answer the question, shook his head sadly and turned to his duties.