“Oh, my darling! Where HAVE you come from? You must have my nice cocoa! Isn't this the most perfect lamp you ever saw? Did you ever see such a flame? Watch!”
She touched the spirit-lamp and what there was of flame died out.
“Now, isn't that provoking? It's really a splendid thing, quite a new kind. I mean to get you one. Now, drink your cocoa; it's beautifully hot.”
“I've had breakfast, Granny.”
Frances Freeland gazed at her doubtfully, then, as a last resource, began to sip the cocoa, of which, in truth, she was badly in want.
“Granny, will you help me?”
“Of course, darling. What is it?”
“I do so want Derek to forget all about this terrible business.”
Frances Freeland, who had unscrewed the top of a little canister, answered:
“Yes, dear, I quite agree. I'm sure it's best for him. Open your mouth and let me pop in one of these delicious little plasmon biscuits. They're perfect after travelling. Only,” she added wistfully, “I'm afraid he won't pay any attention to me.”