"You don't want me, that's the truth," she observed, getting reluctantly under way. "You 're ashamed of your old Grandma, that's what it is."
"Nonsense, darling," said Tilly. "You know how fond we all are of you. But you would only be tired out by a lot of people."
"No," persisted the old lady, "you don't want me."
She hobbled through the door on her grand-daughter's arm, still speaking the truth.
"Poor old Granny!" Tilly's voice said very gently. "I promise to make it all up to you some day."
The bedroom door on the other side of the landing was heard to open and shut, and there was momentary silence. Then the front-door bell emitted a majestic peal. The sound thrilled the Welwyns like a tocsin. Tilly darted in.
"Get to your places," she whispered.
The troupe hastily resumed their proper poses, and a tense silence ensued.
Mrs. Welwyn took a deep breath.
"Has Horace," she enquired in a hoarse and hysterical whisper, "hurt Herbert? No, but Hildebrand--"