you and me on friendly terms again, she'll turn
the full hose on to us both unless you make it up with her."

"H'm, yes. But as likely as not she'll tell me and my apologies to go
hang."

"Have a try, old man," said the Major encouragingly.

Puffin looked at his whisky-bottle.

"Help yourself, Major," he said. "I think you'll have to help me out,
you know. Go and interview her: see if there's a chance of my favourable
reception."

"No, sir," said the Major firmly, "I will not run the risk of another
morning's shopping in the High Street."

"You needn't. Watch till she comes back from her shopping to-morrow."

Major Benjy clearly did not like the prospect at all, but Puffin grew
firmer and firmer in his absolute refusal to lay himself open to rebuff,
and presently, they came to an agreement that the Major was to go on his
ambassadorial errand next morning. That being settled, the still
undecided point about the worm-cast gave rise to a good deal of heat,
until, it being discovered that the window was open, and that their
voices might easily carry as far as the garden-room, they made malignant
rejoinders to each other in whispers. But it was impossible to go on
quarrelling for long in so confidential a manner, and the disagreement
was deferred to a more convenient occasion. It was late when the Major
left, and after putting out the light in Puffin's hall, so that he
should not be silhouetted against it, he slid into the darkness, and
reached his own door by a subtle detour.

Miss Mapp had a good deal of division of her swift mind, when, next
morning, she learned the nature of Major Benjy's second errand. If she,
like Mr. Wyse, was to encourage Puffin to hope that she would accept his
apologies, she would be obliged to remit all further punishment of him,
and allow him to consort with his friend again. It was difficult to
forgo the pleasure of his chastisement, but, on the other hand, it was
just possible that the Major might break away, and, whether she liked it
or not (and she would not), refuse permanently to give up Puffin's
society. That would be awkward since she had publicly paraded her
reconciliation with him. What further inclined her to clemency, was that
this very evening the crimson-lake tea-gown would shed its effulgence
over Mrs. Poppit's bridge-party, and Diva would never want to hear the
word "kingfisher" again. That was enough to put anybody in a good
temper. So the diplomatist returned to the mi