Betty’s lip curled in disdain.
“So appropriate, isn’t it? So likely to be true!”
“All the more reason to wish for it,” maintained Jill pertly. “What’s the good of wishing if you don’t wish something nice? You don’t want to take for granted that she is going on mumping and grumping all next year. Something nice might happen to her, as well as to anyone else.”
“Quite right, quite right! Always expect the best, and prepare for the worst,” cried the General heartily. “Now, I’ve a suggestion to make! There’s a big concert advertised to take place in the Albert Hall on the afternoon of Boxing Day. Some friends of mine who are wandering abroad have a box there which is at my disposal when I choose to use it. I’m not going with you, mind—none of your governesses for me!—but I’ll give you the tickets, and you can make up a happy party, and get rid of some of your responsibilities, at least. How does that idea strike you, Miss Betty—eh, what?”
“Oh, I—I love it! You are sweet!” gushed Betty fervently. A box! The Albert Hall! Herself the head of the party, the gracious dispenser of favours—it was almost too ecstatic to be believed! “The two governesses, Cynthia and myself, Miles, because he loves music, and we want someone to bring us home, and father, if he has time, for Miles won’t come if he is the only male. That would be a delightful party!” she decided. There were points, after all, about being left “in charge?”
Chapter Fourteen.
Christmas Presents.
The Trevors’ programme on Christmas Day differed from those of their friends, and possessed in their opinion many striking advantages. No presents were given in the morning; it was enough excitement to know that it was Christmas Day, and to linger over a late and luxurious breakfast before going to church. There was something particularly inspiring about the moment when the great congregation rose in the ivy-decked church and burst into song—