Here the door opened suddenly and Tommy came in, very muddy, with a peaceful face, and a large rent in his coat.
"I say, Mrs. Chundle, do sew this up for me—hullo, Mrs. Berrill, that was a ripping tea you gave us last week—you are an absolute gem, Mrs. Chundle," and Tommy sat himself down on the kitchen bench, while Mrs. Chundle ruefully examined the coat.
In Mrs. Berrill's eye was a challenge, as who should say, "Now, Mrs. Chundle, arise and assert your authority, put down a firm foot and say, this shall not be.'"
That lady doubtless saw it, for she pursed her lips and gazed at Tommy with some dignity.
"Mister Thomas," she began—but Tommy interrupted her.
"I say, I didn't know you an' Mrs. Berrill were pals. Mrs. Berrill gave me a huge tea the other day, Mrs. Chundle—awful good cake she makes, don't you, Mrs. Berrill? An', I say, Mrs. Berrill, has old—has Mrs. Chundle told you all about the Cholmondeleys, an' how they married, an' came to England—how long ago was it?" Mrs. Chundle blushed modestly.
"With William the Norming," she said gently.
"An' how she was derived from them, you know, an' all that?"
Mrs. Berrill nodded.
"We hall know as 'ow Mrs. Chundle is a—a very superior person," she said.