got out of the habit of watches; men so seldom wore waistcoats in those hot
climates. Whereas Cyril in London wore them from year's end to year's end.
And it would be so nice for her and Constantia, when he came to tea, to
know it was there. "I see you've got on grandfather's watch, Cyril." It
would be somehow so satisfactory.

Dear boy! What a blow his sweet, sympathetic little note had been! Of
course they quite understood; but it was most unfortunate.

"It would have been such a point, having him," said Josephine.

"And he would have enjoyed it so," said Constantia, not thinking what she
was saying.

However, as soon as he got back he was coming to tea with his aunties.
Cyril to tea was one of their rare treats.

"Now, Cyril, you mustn't be frightened of our cakes. Your Auntie Con and I
bought them at Buszard's this morning. We know what a man's appetite is.
So don't be ashamed of making a good tea."

Josephine cut recklessly into the rich dark cake that stood for her winter
gloves or the soling and heeling of Constantia's only respectable shoes.
But Cyril was most unmanlike in appetite.

"I say, Aunt Josephine, I simply can't. I've only just had lunch, you
know."

"Oh, Cyril, that can't be true! It's after four," cried Josephine.
Constantia sat with her knife poised over the chocolate-roll.