"What an imagination! Not a very pious one, I'm afraid Mr.Russell might think, though!" Here she gave Gertrude a hidden signal to remove the soup; but, as there was no response, she had to make the signal more conspicuous.

Gertrude was leaning against the wall, her chin moving like a slow pendulum, her streaked eyes fixed mutinously upon Russell.

Mrs.Adams nodded several times, increasing the emphasis of her gesture, while Alice talked briskly; but the brooding waitress continued to brood.

A faint snap of the fingers failed to disturb her; nor was a covert hissing whisper of avail, and Mrs.Adams was beginning to show signs of strain when her daughter relieved her.
"Imagine our trying to eat anything so hot as soup on a night like this!" Alice laughed.

"What COULD have been in the cook's mind not to give us something iced and jellied instead?
Of course it's because she's equatorial, herself, originally, and only feels at home when Mr.Satan moves it north." She looked round at Gertrude, who stood behind her.