"Mother—Agatha—this is Jo."
Joanna swooped down on the old lady with a loud kiss.
"Pleased to meet you," said Mrs. Hill in a subdued voice. She was very short and small and frail-looking, and wore a cap—for the same reason no doubt that she kept an aspidistra in the dining-room window, went to church at eleven o'clock on Sundays, and had given birth to Agatha and Albert.
Agatha was evidently within a year or two of her brother's age, and she had his large, melting eyes, and his hair that sprang in a dark semicircle from a low forehead. She was most elegantly dressed in a peek-a-boo blouse, hobble skirt, and high-heeled shoes.
"Pleased to meet you," she said, and Joanna kissed her too.
"Is tea ready?" asked Bertie.
"It will be in a minute, dear—I can hear Her getting it."
They could all do that, but Bertie seemed annoyed that they should be kept waiting.
"You might have had it ready," he said, "I expect you're tired, Jo."
"Oh, not so terrible, thanks," said Joanna, who felt sorry for her future mother-in-law being asked to keep tea stewing in the pot against the uncertain arrival of travellers. But, as it happened, she did feel rather tired, and was glad when the door was suddenly kicked open and a large tea-tray was brought in and set down violently on a side table.