"That's all right, old boy. I was feeling too tired to deal with any problems this morning. The morning is the only opportunity I get for a little peace. It never occurred to me whose luggage it was. It might have been a mistake; in fact I thought it was a mistake. But in any case it's very lucky I did send it back, because they'll want it to-night." "I'm afraid I can't keep them with me any longer." Though irony might be lost on George's cold blood, the plain fact might wake him up to the actuality of the situation and so it did. "Oh, but look here, old boy," he expostulated, "Eleanor won't be home for another five weeks. She'll be at Cardiff next week." "And Bertram and Viola will be at Earl's Court," said John, firmly. "But the doctor strongly recommended me to rest. I've been very seedy while you were in America. Stomachic, old boy. Yes, that's the trouble. And then my nerves are not as strong as yours. I've had a lot of worry lately." "I'm sorry," John insisted. "But I've been called away on urgent business, and I can't leave the children at Church Row. I'm sorry, George, but as soon as they are found, I must hand them over to you." "I shall send them down to the country," George threatened. "When they are once more safely in your keeping, you can do what you like with them." "To your place, I mean." Normally John would have given a ready assent to such a proposal; but George's attitude had by now aroused his bitter disapproval, and he was determined that Bertram and Viola should be planted upon their father without option. "Ambles is impossible," he said, decidedly. "Besides, Eleanor is anxious that Viola shouldn't miss her series of Spanish dances. She attends the dancing-class every Tuesday and Friday. No doubt your landlady will lend you Karl to escort her." "Children are very difficult in a boarding-house," George argued. "They're apt to disturb the other guests. In fact, there was a little trouble only last week over some game--" "Robinson Crusoe," John put in. "Ah, they told you?" "No, no, go on. I'm curious to know exactly what we missed at Church Row." "Well, they have a habit, which Eleanor most imprudently encourages, of dressing up on Sundays, and as I've had to make it an understood thing that _none_ of _my_ clothes are to be used, they are apt to borrow other people's. I must admit that generally people have been very kind about lending their clothes; but latterly this dressing up has taken a more ambitious form, and on Sunday week--I think it was--" "Yes, it would have been a Sunday," John agreed. "On Sunday week they borrowed Miss Moxley's parrot for Robinson Crusoe. You remember poor Miss Moxley, John?" "Yes, she lent you five pounds once," said John, sternly. "Precisely. Oh yes, she did. Yes, yes, that was why I was so vexed about her lending her parrot." "Why shouldn't she lend her parrot?"