g the point! She gave the conversation an adroit little
switch.

"Don't wait lunch for me, Mother. I shall probably go to the Vicarage.
We shall need all our time."

"We are having fried steak. If you come at all, you must be punctual.
If it's done too long, all the strength has gone. I could give you
sandwiches to eat in the vestry. Or it might be stewed. If papa did
not object, it could _quite_ well be stewed. He dislikes the onions.
If we had carrots instead, would you object, papa? But, of course,
there's the flavour. Carrots are _not_ so seasoning... Perhaps it had
better be sandwiches. Mary, is there a glass of that chicken and ham
paste? See if there's a glass, dear. Cook could make some nice fresh
sandwiches."

Mary moved automatically, but Teresa stopped her with a waving hand.

"I loathe sandwiches. I shall go somewhere and have a proper lunch.
Don't bother, Mother."

"My dear," said Mrs Mallison reproachfully, "I am your mother. When
you have a tiring day before you I am naturally anxious that you should
be fed. They will be busy at the Vicarage. Cold meat and salad. One
could hardly expect more, but you are accustomed to a hot dish. It is
the day for steak, but if papa didn't object we might change. I don't
care for changes as a rule, it upsets the servants, but just for once.--
A chicken now! You like chicken. Just run to the telephone, dear, and
tell Bates to send one up. Good, roasting. Three and six. If papa
doesn't mind."

Not a flicker of expression passed over the Major's face. He was the
Jorkins of the establishment, and knew well that, useful as he might be
for purposes of quotation, he was negligible as a working factor. He
continued resignedly to partake of bacon. Teresa vouchsafed an
appreciative smile.

"We'll have fowl for dinner. Plenty of time when the boy calls. I'm
going out to lunch, Mother. I'd rather. It's part of the fun."

Mrs Mallison sighed. Here was one of the expected trials. A daughter,
unappreciative, preferring to roam abroad, oblivious of the fact that
after a morning's church decorating she would be in possession of a
harvest of small talk which a mother would naturally desire to hear.
Who decorated the lectern; who the finials; who did the windows this
year? The windows were the least coveted post. A mother whose daughter
had been honoured with the east end would naturally feel agreeable
sympathy for the mother of those who wrestl