Before Georgie could reply, Mrs. Antrobus’s two daughters, Piggy and Goosie came bounding up hand in hand. Piggy and Goosie never walked like other people: they skipped and gambolled to show how girlish an age is thirty-four and thirty-five. “Oh stop, Mr. Georgie,” said Piggy. “Let us all hear. And are the pearls worth a Queen’s ransom?” “Silly thing,” said Goosie. “I don’t believe in the pearls.” “Well, I don’t believe in Grosvenor Square,” said Goosie. “So silly yourself!” When this ebullition of high spirits had subsided, and Piggy had slapped Goosie on the back of her hands, they both said “Hush!” simultaneously. “Well, I can’t say about the pearls,” said Georgie. “Eh, what can’t you say?” said Mrs. Antrobus. “About the pearls,” said Georgie, addressing himself to the end of Mrs. Antrobus’s trumpet. It was like the trunk of a very short elephant, and she waved it about as if asking for a bun. “About the pearls, mamma,” screamed Goosie and Piggy together. “Don’t interrupt Mr. Georgie.” “And the house isn’t in Grosvenor Square, but in Brompton Square,” said Georgie. “But that’s quite in the slums,” said Mrs. Antrobus. “I am disappointed.” “Not at all, a charming neighbourhood,” said Georgie. This was not at all what he had been looking forward to: he had expected cries of envious surprise at his news. “As for the fortune, about three thousand a year.” “Is that all?” said Piggy with an air of deep disgust. “A mere pittance to millionaires like Piggy,” said Goosie, and they slapped each other again. “Any more news?” asked Mrs. Antrobus. “Yes,” said Georgie, “Olga Bracely is coming down to-morrow----” “No!” said all the ladies together. “And her husband?” asked Piggy. “No,” said Georgie without emphasis. “At least she didn’t say so. But she wants all her friends to come to lunch on Sunday. So you’ll all come, will you? She told me to ask everybody.” “Yes,” said Piggy. “Oh, how lovely! I adore Olga. Will she let me sit next her?” “Eh?” said Mrs. Antrobus. “Lunch on Sunday, mamma, with Olga Bracely,” screamed Goosie. “But she’s not here,” said Mrs. Antrobus. “No, but she’s coming, mamma,” shouted Piggy. “Come along, Goosie. There’s Mrs. Boucher. We’ll tell her about poor Mrs. Lucas.” Mrs. Boucher’s bath-chair was stationed opposite the butcher’s, where her husband was ordering the joint for Sunday. Piggy and Goosie had poured the tale of Lucia’s comparative poverty into her ear, before Georgie got to her. Here, however, it had a different reception, and Georgie found himself the hero of the hour.