“I don’t blame them,” remarked his sister quickly, with her involuntary twitching of the head. “I should do the same if I was in their place. Tapioca pudding, Erb, for after. How does that strike you?”
“A tapioca and me,” said Erb genially, “have always been on speaking terms. I can always do with a tapioca. A tapioca and me are good chums. Don’t forget your stout.”
“Wish I was.”
“What I mean is, don’t forget to drink it. My friend Payne, by the way, may call with a message.”
“I’d as lief take doctor’s stuff,” said his sister with a wry face. “What’s Payne calling about?”
“Orgenisation,” answered Erb mysteriously.
“Oh,” she said casually, “that rot.”
“You’ll have a lay down after dinner.”
“I shall be busy,” answered his sister, “making meself good-looking.”
“You’ll have a lay down,” Erb repeated firmly. “Besides, you look all right. Your face is a bit white, but,” with a burst of compliment, “you’d pass in a crowd. No cheese for me. You ’ave some.”