'Under the circumstances I did not, Elizabeth. They seemed quite happy and so----'
'"Let sleepin' dogs lie,"' she supplemented.
'You seem able to lie a great deal more than sleeping dogs,' I said severely. 'In future, remember to stick to the truth or you may get yourself--and other people--into serious trouble.'
'Right-o, 'm. But Mr. Roarings seemed satisfied enough. Look wot 'e gave me to-day?'--she held out two crisp banknotes. ''E sed they were for my own troosoo,' she added gleefully.
'What, Elizabeth, are you going to be married next?' asked Henry, as he strolled into the room at that moment.
'Well, I ain't got a party in view as yet, sir. But as I always ses, you never know wot a day may bring forth. The Signs 'ave been good for me lately. Isn't there a sayin' somewhere about not knowing the day nor the 'our when the young man may come along? Well, I always think it's best to be prepared, like.'
She went out, but returned a moment later bearing a tray in her hand.
'I thort p'raps you'd like to drink to the occashun of the 'appy 'ome-coming in a nice glarss o' stout,' she explained.
I noted that there were three glasses. 'Elizabeth,' I said coldly, 'you are unduly familiar. I protest----'
'Oh, hang it all, let's be democratic,' put in Henry, grinning. 'It's only your _joie de vivre_ and natural _bonhomie_, isn't it, Elizabeth?'
'Not 'arf,' replied Elizabeth. 'Well,' she added a moment later as she raised her glass, ''ere's to us, all of us, an' may we never want nothin', none of us--nor me neither.'
[Illustration: 'Ere's to us, all of us!']
I saw that Henry was grappling with the construction of the sentence, and it was a full minute and a half before he gave it up. Then he lifted his glass. 'Thank you, Elizabeth,' he said, 'and the same to you.'