“Anozzer vamous fictory!”
“The little grandchild Wilhelmine has made the phrase immortal,” murmured Cliffe. “How lucky for her that she rhymed with village green.”
Otto looked uneasy; not comprehending the reference, but wishing that somebody had informed the young man that the Redbury grandchild was better referred to in public as Minnie. He changed the subject.
“You live somevere on zis line, Mr Gennedy? I get out at Pelzize Bark.”
“Oooo ... nice!” gurgled Cliffe. Otto looked interrogative.
Cliffe serenely covered his lapse from manners. “Hampstead is my station. Our house is on the Heath itself. You must come and make friends with my mother, Mr Redbury. She’d like you so much. Come to lunch one day. Come on Saturday.”
Mr Redbury beamed and puffed out his meagre chest, anticipating the conquest of Mrs Kennedy. This was undoubtedly a very pleasant and discriminating young man.... “but I always vind blenty in gommon viz English people—the good old shtock;”—sentiment reserved for the after benefit of Trudchen; and to impress Beatrice.
“Yoo-stone!” bawled the guard. A number of passengers squeezed their way out; and Cliffe dropped lightly on to the vacated seat beside Otto.
“My dear mother’s a widow, so don’t bring your wife. She was deeply attached to my poor father, and can’t bear the sight of any woman less fortunate in a husband alive.”