George did not, by a good deal; but he understood sufficient for his needs. He shot forward as if some strong hand were behind him with a needle.
“Miss Vaughan—Mary—I—”
“I think I hear aunt calling,” said she.
But a benevolent Providence has ordained that aunts cannot call for ever; and it is on record that when George entered his box on the two hundredth night of that great London success, Fate’s Footballs, he did not enter it alone.