ng to get her to take from him.

Mr. Sefton, valiant to the end, was with trembling fingers endeavouring
to extract a cigarette from his case, apparently unconscious that one
was still attached to his lip. Mrs. Craske-Morton, Patricia and
Gustave set themselves to work to pour tea and brandy down the throats
of the others. Mr. Sefton took his mechanically and put it to his
lips, oblivious of the cigarette that still dangled there. Finding an
obstruction he put up his hand and pulled the cigarette away and with
it a portion of the skin of his lip. For the rest of the evening he
was dabbing his mouth with his pocket-handkerchief.

Gustave had valiantly gone to the assistance of Jenny, and was
endeavouring to pour tea through her closed teeth, with the result that
it streamed down the neck of her nightdress. The effect was the same,
however. As she felt the hot fluid on her chest she screamed, stopped
drumming with her heels and looked about the kitchen.

"You've scalded me, you beast!" she cried, whereat Gustave, who was
sitting on his heels, started and fell backwards, bringing Miss Sikkum
down on top of him together with her cup of tea.

Mrs. Craske-Morton was ministering to Miss Wangle and Mrs.
Mosscrop-Smythe. Mr. Bolton and Mr. Cordal were both drinking neat
brandy out of teacups.

Outside the guns still thundered and screamed.

Patricia went to the assistance of the cook; kneeling down she
persuaded her to drink a cup of tea and brandy, which had the effect of
silencing her appeals to the Almighty.

For an hour the "guests" of Galvin House waited, exactly what for no
one knew. Then the noise of the firing began to die away in waves of
sound. There would be a few minutes' silence but for the distant
rumble of guns, then suddenly a spurt of firing as if the guns were
reluctant to forget their former anger. Another period of silence
would follow, then two or three isolated reports, like the snarl of
dogs that had been dragged from their prey. Finally quiet.

For a further half-hour Galvin House waited, praying that the attack
would not be renewed. There were little spurts of conversation. Mr.
Sefton was slowly returning to the "foot on the Capstan" attitude, and
actually had a cigarette alight. Mr. Bolton and Mr. Cordal were
speculating as to where the bomb had fallen. Mrs. Craske-Morton was
wondering if the Government would pay promptly for the damage to her
glass.

Outside there were sounds