“No—but it’s such a beautiful evening, and I felt I wanted the fresh air after London.”
She looked worn and fagged, as she sat down by the fire, spreading out her pale hands to the flames to warm.
Mrs. Beatup sniffed.
“Reckon thur’s more air-raids than air in London,” said Tom—“Ha! ha!” and they all laughed at the joke.
“But they dudn’t have naun while Nell was there,” said Mrs. Beatup, continuing her grumble. “Nell, how dud you lik the Strand Paliss Hotel?”
“Oh, pretty fair—it was very grand, but a great big barrack like that makes my head turn round.”
“How big was it?” asked Zacky. “As big as church?”
“Bigger a dunnamany times,” said Mrs. Beatup. “I’ve seen the Hotel Metropoil in Brighton, and reckon you cud git the whole street into it.”
“Did you have a fire in your bedroom?”
“No—there were hot pipes.”