“Supposing they come back,” Clara whispered. “Oh, lor’! Whatever’s that?”
Maudie told her not to be silly, and went on to boast that she did not care if they did come back, because she had made up her mind to give up domestic service and go on the stage.
“Fancy!” said Clara. “Whoever put that idea into your head?”
“Well, I started learning some of the songs they sing in the halls, and some friends of mine gave a party last January and I made quite a hit. I’ll sing you a song now, if you like.”
And Maudie, sitting down at the piano, accompanied herself with much effect in one of Miss Vesta Victoria’s songs.
“For goodness’ sake keep quiet, Maudie,” Clara begged. “You’ll have the neighbors coming ’round to see whatever’s the matter. You have got a cheek.”
Sylvia thoroughly enjoyed Maudie’s performance and thought she would have a great success. She liked Maudie’s smallness and neatness and glittering, dark eyes. Altogether it was a delightful afternoon, and she was sorry to go away.
“Come again,” cried Maudie, “before they come back, and we’ll have some more.”
“Oh, I did feel frightened!” Clara said, when she and Sylvia were hurrying to catch the omnibus back to Lillie Road. “I couldn’t enjoy it, not a bit. I felt as if I was in the bath and the door not bolted, though they do say stolen fruit is the sweetest.”
When she got home, Sylvia found that her father had returned also, and she held forth on the joys of Maudie Tilt’s house.