Meryl sat on a footstool near him, watching his face anxiously, while Diana, with an open book on her knee, listened from the depths of an enormous arm-chair in which she had curled herself.
"Shouldn't we ever need to wash?" she asked suddenly, in a sprightly voice that set them all laughing.
"Well, it's a hot country, you know," said her uncle, "but it might be more or less optional."
"Scrumptious!" and Diana snoozled lower into her chair.
"Uncouth," remarked Aunt Emily, disapprovingly.
"Or do you mean unclean?" enquired the sinner.
"It is quite the maddest idea I ever heard of." Ignoring her, and growing more and more mournful, the poor lady heaved a deep sigh.
"But need you be bothered with us?" enquired Meryl, diplomatically. "Wouldn't you rather have a nice quiet summer in England?"
"And let you go alone?... How could I?... Your father will be much engaged with his business, and it would be most unseemly for two girls of your age to be left so much alone. I believe it is a dreadful country, but if you can face it, I think I can find the courage to come with you."
"Think you can bear it, aunty?..." chirped the voice from the arm-chair, and Meryl frowned in a little aside at the snoozler.