“Don’t rot, Elsie. Say you’ll come. Slip out after supper, and meet me at the bottom of the road. There’s a jolly good programme on at the Palatial.”
“I hope you’ll enjoy the pictures, Mr. Roberts,” said Elsie demurely. She sidled backwards to the door.
“I shall wait for you—eight o’clock sharp.”
“Don’t catch cold waiting,” she mocked.
“Look here, kid——”
“That’s mother! She’ll skin me alive, if I give her half a chance!” She flew out into the hall and down the passage to the kitchen.
The servant Nellie was there, and Elsie’s sister Geraldine.
“Where’ve you been, Elsie?”
“With mother. I didn’t know you were here; I thought you were s’posed to be ill.”
“So I am ill,” returned Geraldine bitterly. “But as you were out, someone had to do some work.”