“Darlings!” she cried, snatching up Shan’t and putting her on Aunt Elsie’s lap so that she might hug them both together and so make up for lost time.
“Why did you come?” asked Aunt Elsie; “not that; but how did you get away?”
“Quite easily.”
“You haven’t—?”
“Of course not: he’s a dear, but London is hot—and Shan’t is a darling and the only-aunt-in-the-world—is—”
“I am just offering him Shan’t,” said Aunt Elsie.
“Writing to him?”
“No, I was writing to you—”
“Well, write to him; say I have arrived. Say I look so well—”
“You do, darling—you do!”