She turned then and looked at him, and her eyes challenged his.

And yet it is to be supposed that Hilda knew nothing whatever about it.
"'_Right on my mother's knee_....'" sang the platform.
"'_Without a shirt, without a shirt_,'" gagged Peter, _sotto voce_, and marvelled at himself.

But he felt that her smothered laughter amply rewarded him.
The song ceased in time, and the encore, which they both rigorously demanded.

And immediately she began again.
"I hope to goodness tea isn't far off," she said.

"By the way, you'll have to take me to it, now, you know.