“An’ then they’ll bu’st,” interpolated Robin.
“Hee! hee! ha!” giggled Letta, who, during all this time, had been gazing with sparkling eyes and parted lips, from one speaker to another, utterly forgetful of, and therefore thoroughly enjoying, her own existence.
“Yes, then they’ll bu’st,” repeated Rik, with an approving nod at Robin; “you’re right, my boy, and the sooner they do it the better, for I’m quite sick of their flashings and crashings.”
“I rather suspect, Sam,” said Mr Wright, “that the gentlemen with whom you dined the other day would not agree with uncle Rik.”
“Whom do you refer to, George?” asked Mrs Wright.
“Has he not yet told you of the grand ‘inaugural fête,’ as they call it, that was given at the house of Mr Fender, chairman of the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company, to celebrate the opening of direct submarine telegraphic communication with India?”
“Not a word,” replied Mrs Wright, looking at Sam.
“You never mentioned it to me,” said Madge, with a reproachful glance in the same direction.
“Because, Madge, we have been so busy in talking about something else,” said Sam, “that I really forgot all about it.”
“Do tell us about it now,” said Mrs Langley, who, like her daughter, had been listening in silence up to this point.