"Well," said Mrs. Welwyn, taking off her apron, "the beds are done, anyway. One less to make," she added philosophically, "now that Pumpherston has hopped it. That's something."
"We could do with the rent of his room for all that, Mother," commented practical Amelia.
"That's true, dearie," sighed Mrs. Welwyn. "Well, perhaps we shall get another lodger. Where's your father, by the way?"
"He went out half an hour ago. I expect he's at the Museum."
"Did Mr. Dick see him?"
"I don't know."
"And Mr. Dick said he did n't want to see me?" Mrs. Welwyn spoke rather wistfully.
"That was what he said," admitted 'Melia in a respectful tone.
"I don't suppose he's very anxious to see any of us much," said Mrs. Welwyn candidly. "We must just get the idea out of our heads, that's all. Forget it! Then, there's that broker's insect. We are going to get him paid off double-quick, or I 'm a Dutchman. I don't know how it's going to be done. Still, we have got round worse corners than this, have n't we, duckie?"
"Yes, Mother," said Amelia bravely.