Mr. Superbus shook his head reprovingly.
“Naughty, naughty!” he chided. “That’s not like my Uncle Isaac. And he’s been such a good boy, ma’am, singing as gay as a lark.”
Gordon blushed.
“I didn’t sing, you jackass!” he growled.
“Didn’t he sing, Aunt Lizzie?”
She shrugged indifferent shoulders.
“Well, if he didn’t sing he ’ummed,” insisted Mr. Superbus.
His repertoire on the mouth-organ included the Eton Boating Song—Gordon was an old Etonian. Doubtless he had ’ummed: no Etonian could resist the lilt of it.
“To bed,” said Diana curtly.
Swinging her keys, she had the appearance of a jailer.