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.
'What is this?' I inquired.
'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.'
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR ELIZABETH***
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