“Now, don’t you go makin’ any toilet,” said Aunt Harriet. “We’ll be goin’ out presently. Not that I don’t like changin’,” she added hastily, “because I do. But Tom—my husban’s that slack. In course I’m afraid I’ve fell away, but there you are. Where’s the good of me makin’ meself tidy, when ’is idea of dressin’ is to take ’is collar orf?” She sighed heavily. “But there, there,” she added. “We all ’as our crorse to bear.”
“Well, I’ll just wash my face and hands,” said Ann. “One gets so dirty in the train.”
“Just as you please,” said her hostess. “I’m afraid it’s waste o’ time—the pier’s that filthy—but it’ll freshen you up.”
She fought her way past the dressing-table and thrust her head out of the window.
“Albert,” she yelled.
“ ’Ullo,” rose the small boy’s voice.
“Don’t say ’Ullo’ to me,” snapped Aunt Harriet.
“Whatsay?”
His great-aunt drew in her breath.
“Where’s Bob?” she demanded.