"I do, darling, and if one of your sisterly fits is coming on, go home and do not bore me with it."
"Gosh, how I do dislike you!" exclaimed Sally.
"Well, you're not singular," said Neville comfortingly. "In fact, I'm getting amazingly unpopular. Aunt Lucy gets gooseflesh whenever she sets eyes on me."
"I'm not surprised. I must say, I think -'
"What compels you?" inquired Neville.
"Oh shut up! I will say that I think it's fairly low of you to get yourself photographed as the Boots. Miss Fletcher's got enough to bear without your antics being added to the rest."
"Not at all," he replied. "My poor aunt was becoming lachrymose, and no pleasure to herself or me. The paper that printed my story, carefully imported into the house by me, has been another of my diversions. Indignation not profitable, but better than aimless woe. How's Helen?"
"She's all right," said Sally, a note of reserve in her voice.
A sleepy but intelligent eye was cocked at her. "Ah, the atmosphere a trifle strained? I wondered why you came round here."
"It wasn't that at all. I wanted to take another look at the lay-out. And I thought it might be a good thing to evaporate for a bit. John's not going up to town till after lunch."