"It seems impossible, George," she said when she had recovered herself. "Why, you have only been earning ten shillings a week each, and you have had to keep yourselves and get clothes and all sorts of things; it seems impossible."
"It has not cost so much as you think, mother, and Bill and I had both learned to live cheap in Covent Garden; but now let us go downstairs; you have not seen Bill yet, and I know tea will be ready."
But Bill had not yet come in, and George had to go out into the garden to fetch him.
"Come on, Bill; mother is delighted with everything. She won't eat you, you know."
"No, she won't eat me, George; but she will think me an out-and-out sort of 'ottentot," which word had turned up in a book the boys had been reading on an evening previously.
"Well, wait till she says so; come along."
So linking his arm in Bill's, George drew him along, and brought him shamefaced and bashful into the kitchen.
"This is Bill, mother."
"I am glad to see you, Bill," Mrs. Andrews said, holding out her hand. "I have heard so much of you from George that I seem to know you quite well."