“Oh, yes I suppose so — no — not very cheerful, I suppose.”

“Then, depend upon it, it IS the boiler. I know myself how water preys upon one's mind. I would rather anything else — even a misfortune with the meat.”

Cecil laid his hand over his eyes.

“So would I,” asserted Freddy, backing his mother up — backing up the spirit of her remark rather than the substance.

“And I have been thinking,” she added rather nervously, “surely we could squeeze Charlotte in here next week, and give her a nice holiday while plumbers at Tunbridge Wells finish. I have not seen poor Charlotte for so long.”

It was more than