"There! if that bird isn't enough to split one's head," said Aunt Penelope.
She went upstairs. Vernon had already gone back to the hotel. Buttons gave me a feeling glance.
"Stay below for a minute, missy. Is it true? Is there nuptials in this 'ere thing?"
"Yes, Jonas."
"I thought as much. Didn't I twig it when I heard his steps and saw the starty sort of way you got into? I'm a smart boy, I am. Missy, you'll have me at the wedding, won't you?"
"I promise you, Jonas, you shall certainly come," I answered rashly.
The next day we went up to London. We had no special adventure on our journey to town. We went first-class. I remembered my journey down, and how interesting I had thought the third-class passengers, but now we travelled back in state. Vernon said it would be less tiring for Aunt Penelope. When we got to Paddington we drove to the little hotel that Aunt Penelope knew about; it was a quiet little place at one corner of a small square in Bloomsbury. It was very old-fashioned and not much frequented of late. The proprietor, however, knew Aunt Penelope quite well. Had he not entertained her and my mother also in the long-ago days when they were young? Aunt Penelope was anxious to secure the same rooms, and, strange as it may seem, she managed to get them. The landlord was very pleased indeed to show them to her, and she told me afterwards that the sight of them brought a prickly sensation into the back of her eyes, and made her feel inclined to cry. The rooms were quiet and clean, and that was the main thing. Vernon did not think much of them, but they pleased Aunt Penelope, and that, of course, was the most important matter of all.
Having arranged about the rooms, Vernon now suggested that we should engage a taxi-cab and drive straight to Hanbury Square, but here Aunt Penelope put down her foot.
"What sort of cab did you say, my dear boy?"
"A taxi-cab, auntie." He called her "auntie" from the very moment we were properly engaged.