The sharp, irritable-looking man had joined them, and his face looked perplexed, the more so as he noted that the girls were watching him, and evidently hanging upon his answer.
“Eh?” he cried; “yes; a welcome, of course. She’s glad to see our bonnie lassies fresh from Old England. Here, Ned, give me a cigar.”
“Thank you, Jack, old fellow,” whispered the captain, as he took out his case. “For Heaven’s sake help me to keep up the poor women’s spirits. I’m afraid it will be very rough for them at first.”
“Rough? Scarifying,” said Uncle John Munday, puffing away at his cigar. “No business to have come.”
“Jack! And you promised to help me and make the best of things.”
“Going to,” said Uncle Jack; “but I didn’t say I wouldn’t pitch into you for dragging us all away from—”
“Bloomsbury Square, my dears,” said Aunt Georgie just then. “Yes, if I had known, you would not have made me move from Bloomsbury Square.”
“Where you said you should die of asthma, you ungrateful old woman. This climate is glorious.”
“Humph!” said Aunt Georgie.
“Well, girls,” cried the captain, passing his arms round his daughter and niece’s waists, “what do you think of it?”