Tilly took a deep breath, and began:--
"Yes--in Russell Square. The house," she continued rapidly, "is very old-fashioned. It belonged to my grandfather. My father inherited from him, and we have lived there ever since we left Cambridge. We have often talked of leaving, but Dad says he can't bear transplanting at his time of life. So," concluded Tilly, with an hysterical little gasp--Lady Adela and Sylvia were listening with the dispassionate immobility of a pair of well-nourished sphinxes--"we just stay on."
She has confessed that she lives in Bloomsbury, wrote Mrs. Carmyle. The Inquisition are one up.
"Russell Square!" cooed Lady Adela. "How charming and old-fashioned! So handy for the British Museum, too!"
"And Euston Road!" added Sylvia enthusiastically.
Cats! Cats!! Cats!!! recorded Connie furiously.
Lady Adela offered Tilly a bun, and resumed her long-distance fire.
"You are quite a small family, I imagine?"
"Well," began Tilly readily--they had reached a topic that lay very near her heart--"there are Father and Mother, of course, and my brother Percy, and my sister, and two quite tiny ones. My grandmother--"
"How nice," murmured Lady Adela indulgently, closing her eyes as if to mitigate the strain of this enumeration. "And what is your little sister's name?"