“When I was a nipper of your age, if I didn’t turn out like greased lightning every morning, I was assisted by a little strap oil,” remarked uncle Jay-Jay.
“Sybylla should be excused this morning,” interposed Mr Grey. “She entertained us for hours last night. Little wonder if she feels languid this morning.”
“Entertained you I What did she do?” queried grannie.
“Many things. Do you know, gran, that you are robbing the world of an artist by keeping Sybylla hidden away in the bush? I must persuade you to let me take her to Sydney and have her put under the best masters in Sydney.”
“Under masters for what?”
“Elocution and singing.”
“I couldn’t afford it.”
“But I’d bear the expense myself. It would only be returning a trifle of all you have done for me.”
“What nonsense! What would you have her do when she was taught?”
“Go on the stage, of course. With her talent and hair she would cause quite a sensation.”