George looked awfully put out. Of course I knew what he wanted. Those smart people up at the other table had expressed a wish to see Mr. Aix. He is a successful though painfully realistic novelist, and George had told them he was actually sitting at the next table, and had promised to bring him over to them to be introduced. In his disappointment, he glared at us all, especially the actor, who didn't care a brass farthing for George's displeasure, and went on eating tea-cake _ad nauseam_. "Oh, all right!" said George, to cover his vexation, "if you prefer to bury yourself in a----" "Easy all!" Mr. Aix said. "Leave everybody to enjoy themselves in their own way. And we are depriving your delightful friends of----" George had turned and gone back to his delightful friends long before Mr. Aix had finished his sentence, and Aunt Gerty patted the poor man on the back till he wriggled. "Loyal fellow!" she said several times. She had got well on to it now, and she started a fit of giggles that lasted all the rest of the time we were there. It didn't matter much, for we were all quite drunk on weak tea and laughter. But we turned as silent as mice as the Fylingdales' party, having had enough of their dull tea, streamed past us, and got into their carriage, and rolled away. George was not with them. I dare say he had got over the hedge and gone round to meet the break by the road, not wanting to walk past our party again, and to avoid unpleasantness. I supposed he had paid for the tea; but no, this grand party forgot to do that, so that in the end Mr. Aix paid for their refreshment for the old woman's sake that she should not suffer. When they had gone, we felt relieved; but it sobered us somehow. Aunt Gerty and the gentlemen smoked quietly, and we were so still that we could hear the little beck bubbling over the loose stones beside us. Then Aunt Gerty was persuaded to recite something, and she did "Loraine, Loraine, Loree!" in a shy, modest voice. You see these were all her real bosses, and she valued their approval, and the actor's wife is considered very stiff in the profession. She herself sang "The banks of Allan Water" very sadly and solidly, and Aunt Gerty cried. To cheer us all up again the actor--rather a famous one, Mr. D--L----, did one of his humorous recitations out of his London repertory for us, so that we nearly died with laughing, and Aunt Gerty dried her tears, and whispered to me that trying to laugh like a lady was so painful that she longed to take a short cut out of her stays. CHAPTER XIII Lady Scilly came to Whitby and took a big house in St. Hilda's Terrace. "They can't be parted long, poor things!" Aunt Gerty said, and Mother hushed her. She brought her great friend Miss Irene Lauderdale with her, for a good blow, before she went to America.