'And think of the saving in fares!' Henry put in, swinging the door to and fro.
'Yes, there was that, certainly,' Aunt Annie agreed.
'And we went everywhere that omnibuses go,' Henry proceeded. 'Once even we got as far as the Salisbury, Fulham.'
'Well, dear,' Mrs. Knight said sharply, 'I do think you might have popped in.'
'But, mamma,' Geraldine tried to explain, 'that would have spoilt it.'
'Spoilt what?' asked Mrs. Knight. 'The Salisbury isn't three minutes off our house. I do think you might have popped in. There I was--and me thinking you were gone abroad!'
'See you later,' said Henry, and disappeared.
'He doesn't look quite well, does he, Annie?' said Mrs. Knight.
'I know how it used to be,' Aunt Annie said. 'Whenever he began to make little jokes, we knew he was in for a bilious attack.'
'My dear people,' Geraldine endeavoured to cheer them, 'I assure you he's perfectly well--perfectly.'
'I've decided not to go out, after all,' said Henry, returning surprisingly to the room. 'I don't feel like it.' And he settled into an ear-flap chair that had cost sixteen pounds ten.
'Have one?' said Geraldine, offering him the coloured box from which she had just helped herself.
'No, thanks,' said he, shutting his eyes.
'I beg your pardon, I'm sure;' Geraldine turned to her visitors and extended the box. 'Won't you have a _marron glacé_?'
And the visitors gazed at each other in startled, affrighted silence.
'Has Henry eaten some?' Mrs. Knight asked, shaken.
'He had one or two before tea,' Geraldine answered. 'Why?'
'I _knew_ he was going to be ill!' said Aunt Annie.
'But he's been eating _marrons glacés_ every day for a fortnight. Haven't you, sweetest?' said Geraldine.
'I can believe it,' Aunt Annie murmured, 'from his face.'
'Oh dear! Women! Women!' Henry whispered facetiously.
'He's only saving his appetite for dinner,' said Geraldine, with intrepid calm.
'My dear girl,' Mrs. Knight observed, again in that peculiar dry tone, 'if I know anything about your husband, and I've had him under my care for between twenty and thirty years, he will eat nothing more to-day.'
'Now, mater,' said Henry, 'don't get excited. By the way, we haven't told you that I'm going to write a play.'
'Yes. So you'll have to begin going to theatres in your old age, after all.'