"Percy, dear old thing," responded Dicky promptly, with his most vacant laugh, "how splendid to see you again! Come and tell me all about your club run on Sunday."
He drew the flamboyant cyclist to a place of safety, and Tilly breathed again.
"There is sugar and cream in this cup, Lady Adela," said Amelia, with a neat bob-curtsey.
"Thank you, little girl," said Lady Adela, taking the cup and smiling indulgently. ("Like a Duchess out slumming," Amelia told Tilly afterwards.) "What pretty manners!" she continued, turning to Mrs. Welwyn. "Where do you send her to school? I used to find it so difficult--"
"She has left school," replied Mrs. Welwyn. "I suppose we ought to send her somewhere to get finished later on, but there--we can't do without her, and that's the truth. Can we, dear?"
Martha Welwyn put an arm round her little daughter. She was talking with greater freedom and confidence now, with her aspirates under perfect control.
"I can quite understand that," said Lady Adela affably. "I dare say you find her indispensable."
"I should think so," replied Mrs. Welwyn, lowering her guard. "What with all the staircases, and a basement kitchen, and separate meals--"
Tilly dropped a teaspoon with a clatter on to the tray.
"I'm so sorry, Sylvia," she said. "Did I make you jump?"