"Glory!" ejaculated Garth.
"It sounds nice," said Aileen. "Let me think if I can manage it."
"You're not to think at all. There's cold mutton, isn't there?
"Lots."
"Anything else?
"Cold odds and ends of pudding. And Garth's broth."
"There you are—what more do you want? That's supper, all ready. We can take out bread-and-butter and hard-boiled eggs, and make billy-tea: and that's lunch. We'll all hurry up, and finish the housework, so that you can go out without having awful thoughts of coming back to find the piano undusted!"
"I can do heaps with one hand," said Garth eagerly. "Oh, do say yes! Mother!"
"What a horrid mother I'd be if I didn't," she said, smiling at them both. "I think it would be perfectly lovely. Mind you eat a good breakfast, both of you, for it will be the only hot meal you'll get to-day."
"The same applies to you," said Tom, placing another slice of bacon on her plate. "No, you needn't dodge!—you know you haven't been eating enough lately to support a fly. Garth and I decline to have you swooning by the wayside from hunger."