"But you haven't had it long, Geoff," said Vic.
"I've had it nearly a year. You're getting as bad as the rest, Vicky," he said querulously.
He had forgotten that he was not alone in the room with his little sister, and had raised his tone, as he was too much in the habit of doing.
"Hoot-toot, hoot-toot!" said a now well-known voice from the other side of the room; "what's all that about over there? You and Victoria can't be quarrelling, surely?"
Mrs. Tudor looked up anxiously.
"Oh no," said Vicky, eagerly; "we were only talking."
"And about what, pray?" persisted Mr. Byrne.
Vicky hesitated. She did not want to vex Geoff, but she was unused to any but straightforward replies.
"About Geoff's umbrella," she said, growing very red.
"About Geoff's umbrella?" repeated the old gentleman. "What could there be so interesting and exciting to say about Geoff's umbrella?"