‘Jill’s furious because Auntie Anna has asked him to dinner next week; and we shall have gone back by then, so she’ll have him to herself all the evening,’ chuckled Wilfred.
‘How is Jill?’ asked Barbara, as soon as she could get in a word.
There was a little pause. ‘She’s all right,’ said Christopher, indifferently, after a moment or two.
‘Kit likes her awfully,’ proclaimed Robin, with his head on one side.
‘So does Peter,’ added Christopher, hastily. ‘He was awfully gone on her this morning, because she mended his cap when no one was looking.’
‘I don’t think she means to be young-ladyish, really,’ remarked Wilfred, patronisingly. ‘Last night, when you kids had gone to bed, she sang to Egbert and me. She can sing!’
‘Now, why didn’t she sing to us before?’ demanded Peter. ‘That’s where she’s so awfully rum.’
‘She hasn’t been properly trained, that’s all,’ said Christopher.
‘Why, she’s studied under the best master in Paris!’ interrupted Wilfred.
‘You goat! I meant her, not her singing,’ snapped Christopher.