“I was just thinking,” said Douglas, changing the subject with a swiftness that disarmed the count, “your moustache certainly turns up at the ends just like Emperor William’s.”
CHAPTER VIII
SATURDAY
“Isn’t it glorious to be living and for it to be Saturday?” yawned Lucy.
“Yes, and not to have to catch that old train,” and Nan snuggled down luxuriously under the bedclothes. “I used to think Saturday was a pretty good institution when we lived in town, but now—Oh, ye gods! Now!”
“Did you know that Saturday was decreed a half-holiday in the days of the Saxon King Edgar 958 A. D.?” asked Lucy, who had a way of springing historical facts on people.
“No, but I know it’s going to be a whole holiday for Nan Carter in the year of grace 1916. I intend to do nothing but laze the whole day long, laze and read.”
“I bet you won’t. I bet you go nutting with Mag and me, because if we go it means Billy goes along, and if he goes along he’ll be in a terrible grouch unless you go, too.”