"'Then O, my Lord, prepare——'" she crooned as she gave a peep into the oven and then clanged the door to again, "'My soul for that blest day——'"
They were leaving soon. Already the sub-letting of the flat was in an agent's hands, and soon Stan would be braving the perils of his career no longer. Dorothy had unfolded her idea to her aunt, and Lady Tasker had raised no objection, provided Dorothy could raise the money by bringing Aunt Eliza into line.
"It's as good as Maypoles and Village Players anyway," she had said, "and I'm getting too old to run about as I have done.—By the way, is it true that Cosimo Pratt's gone to India?"
Dorothy had replied that it was true.
"Hm! What for? To dance round another Maypole?"
"I don't know, auntie. I've seen very little of them."
"Has she gone?"
"No."
"No more babies yet, I suppose?"
"No."