e supply of dried fruits, there was no
reason to face the future with anything but fortitude. She would see
about that now, for, busy though she was, she could not miss the
shopping-parade. Would Diva, she wondered, be at her window, snipping
roses out of chintz curtains? The careful, thrifty soul. Perhaps this
time to-morrow, Diva, looking out of her window, would see that somebody
else had been quicker about being thrifty than she. That would be fun!

The Major's dining-room window was open, and as Miss Mapp passed it, she
could not help hearing loud, angry remarks about eggs coming from
inside. That made it clear that he was still at breakfast, and that if
he had been working at his diaries in the fresh morning hours and
forgetting the time, early rising, in spite of his early retirement last
night, could not be supposed to suit his Oriental temper. But a change
of habits was invariably known to be upsetting, and Miss Mapp was
hopeful that in a day or two he would feel quite a different man.
Further down the street was quaint Irene lounging at the door of her new
studio (a converted coach-house), smoking a cigarette and dressed like a
jockey.

"Hullo, Mapp," she said. "Come and have a look round my new studio. You
haven't seen it yet. I shall give a house-warming next week.
Bridge-party!"

Miss Mapp tried to steel herself for the hundredth time to appear quite
unconscious that she was being addressed when Irene said "Mapp" in that
odious manner. But she never could summon up sufficient nerve to be rude
to so awful a mimic....

"Good morning, dear one," she said sycophantically. "Shall I peep in for
a moment?"

The decoration of the studio was even more appalling than might have
been expected. There was a German stove in the corner made of pink
porcelain, the rafters and roof were painted scarlet, the walls were of
magenta distemper and the floor was blue. In the corner was a very
large orange-coloured screen. The walls were hung with specimens of
Irene's art, there was a stout female with no clothes on at all, whom it
was impossible not to recognize as being Lucy; there were studies of fat
legs and ample bosoms, and on the easel was a picture, evidently in
process of completion, which represented a man. From this Miss Mapp
instantly averted her eyes.

"Eve," said Irene, pointing to Lucy.

Miss Mapp naturally guessed that the gentleman who was almost in the
same costume was Adam, and turned completely away fr