"'Ere, Smithkins! Come to the rescue! Buck up! Everything's a-goin'."
Thus abjured, Mrs. Smithkins hurried out from her room and lent her aid. Evarne, having gathered up the apples, joining the group.
"Here's something of yours," she said.
"Good retriever! 'Ave one," was the response.
Somewhat objecting to be thus described, the girl declined the gift, and was continuing her way upstairs.
"Wait a bit. I must give yer somethin' for yer trouble, me dear. I'll learn yer some cookin'. Best and quickest way to make a sausage roll. D'you know it?"
"No."
"Take a sausage to the top of the stairs and chuck it down—like them apples rolled. See? Ha, ha! Shakespeare! No, not 'im this time. That was the clown at the pantomime last year."
Evarne certainly thought the old dame was slightly incoherent, and smiling indulgently took another step upstairs.
"Done it!" declared Mrs. Harbert triumphantly.