“Oh, you little Cockney!”
“Of course. I was born one, and I am thankful for it! There’s nothing to do here.”
“Babie!” cried Armine, indignantly.
“Well, you and Jock have read a great deal, and he has plunged into night-schools.”
“And become a popular lecturer,” added Armine.
“And you and mother have cultivated Percy Stagg, and gone to Church a great deal—pour passer le temps.”
“Ah, you discontented mortal!” said her mother, rising to write her letters. “You have yet to learn that what is stagnation to some is rest to others.”
“Oh yes, mother, I know it was very good for you, but I’m heartily glad it is over. Sea and Ogre are all very well for once in a way, but they pall, especially in an east wind English fog!”
“My Babie, I hope you are not spoilt by all the excitements of our last few years,” said the mother. “You won’t find life in Collingwood Street much like life in Hyde Corner.”
“No, but it will be life, and that’s what I care for!”