“That’s right,” said Bobbie, approvingly.
“Your neighbour’s asleep.”
“Little beggar’s always at it. He’ll wake up directly when his mother comes.”
A scent of flowers and a familiar deep voice. Trixie, who had been resting one elbow on the pillow, drew back, as Myddleton West came up.
“Well, young man,” said Myddleton West, cheerily, “how are we getting on? Sister Margaret has been telling me of your fire brigade exploit.”
“That was nothing.”
“It might have been, apparently, if you had not acted as you did. This a friend of yours?” Miss Bell stood up and bowed. “Why, I’ve met you two together before. On a tram going Shoreditch way on the night when—”
“Let bygones be bygones,” said Bobbie, uneasily. “That was ages ago.”
“When you were mere boy and girl?”
“Jesso!”