"Plitty typies, farzer," Jackie clamoured, imperious for notice.
I turned to Evie.
"Where did he pick that up?" I asked.
Evie said: "Oh, it was some silly joke of Florrie's."
"Florrie is Mrs Smithson?"
"Yes."
I was not pleased. I suppose that, like Charles Lamb, I am squeamish about my women and children, and I remembered Mrs Smithson's post cards. One of them had borne the legend, "Detained at office—very pressing business," and if you have seen these things you will not want it described. But I was loth to raise again the question I had formerly raised about Miss Levey and Aschael, and so I merely asked whether it was not possible for her to give Mrs Smithson tea without having Jackie there. She said, "Very well," though in a tone a little subdued. She knew what I meant.
It was ten minutes later that, returning of her own accord to the subject, she said a little poutingly: "I don't see much to make a fuss about. He doesn't know what it means."
"That doesn't improve matters very much," I said. "It seems to me to make them worse."