“I always think,” said Miss Pinnegar, “Irish stew is more tasty with a bit of Swede in it.”
“So do I, really,” said Alvina. “But Swedes aren’t come yet.”
“Oh! Didn’t we have some on Tuesday?”
“No, they were yellow turnips—but they weren’t Swedes.”
“Well then, yellow turnip. I like a little yellow turnip,” said Miss Pinnegar.
“I might have put some in, if I’d known,” said Alvina.
“Yes. We will another time,” said Miss Pinnegar.
Not another word about the cinema: not another breath. As soon as James had eaten his plum tart, he ran away.
“What can he have been doing?” said Alvina when he had gone.
“Buying a cinema show—and that man we saw is his manager. It’s quite simple.”