an expert at bazaars.
Bridgie has had part of a stall several times for things for the
regiment; but _where is your work_?" demanded Pixie sternly. "When you
take part in a bazaar it means every room crowded out with cushions and
tidies, and mats and pincushions, and sitting up at nights, finishing
off and sewing on prices, and days of packing up at the end, to say
nothing of circulars and invitations, and your own aprons and caps. I
haven't noticed a bit of fuss. How _can_ you be going to have a bazaar
without any fuss?"

She looked so accusingly at her sister as she spoke that the others
laughed, but there was a hint of uneasiness in the manner in which Joan
glanced at her husband before replying.

"There isn't any. Why should there be? Fancy work isn't my _forte_,
and it would bore me to sobs _living_ bazaar for months ahead. I've
sent money to order ready-mades, and there are a pile of packing-cases
stored away upstairs which will provide more than we want. They _ought_
to do, considering the money I've spent! I expect the things will be
all right."

"Haven't you _looked_?" cried Pixie blankly, while Geoffrey flushed,
shrugged his shoulders, and muttered a sarcastic "Charity made easy!"
which brought an answering flash into his wife's eyes.

"Is there anything particularly estimable in upsetting a whole house and
wasting time in manufacturing fal-lals which nobody needs? I fail to
see it," she retorted sharply, and Geoffrey shrugged again, his face
grim and displeased.

It was not a pleasant moment for the listeners, and one and all were
grateful to Stanor Vaughan for the easy volubility, with which he dashed
to the rescue.

"I'll open the cases for you, Mrs Hilliard. I'm a nailer at opening
cases; ought to have been a furniture remover by profession. Give me
wood and nails, and a litter of straw and sawdust, and I'm in my
element. Better take 'em down to the hall and unpack them there, I
suppose? Safest plan with breakables. Jolly good crockery you get from
abroad! I was at winter sports with my sister, and she fell in love
with a green pottery cruse business, half a franc, and as big as your
head. I argued with her for an hour, but it was no good, buy it she
would, and cuddled it in her arms the whole way home! If you have any
green cruses, Mrs Hilliard, I'll buy a dozen!"

Esmeralda thanked him, and proceeded to explain her arrangements in a
manner elaborately composed. It appeared tha