but it seemed to me that, awful as it might be to be in constant association with my Aunt Agatha and young Thos, he had got rather well out of a tight place.
“All you have to do,” I said, “is to carry on here for a few weeks more, and everything will be oojah-cum-spiff.”
Bingo barked bleakly.
“A few weeks more! I shall be lucky if I stay two days. You remember I told you that your aunt’s faith in me as a guardian of her blighted son was shaken a few days ago by the fact that he was caught smoking. I now find that the person who caught him smoking