lly could not toil up to
Town two days running.

"Let's see," I said carelessly, "the fete's on--er--Wednesday, or
Thursday, is it?"

"Which day are you going up to Town?" said Daphne. I changed my ground.

"The Bananas are all right," I said, lighting a cigarette.

"They only ate a missionary the other day," said my sister.

"That's bad," said I musingly. "To any nation the consumption of home
produce is of vital--"

"We want to make sixty pounds."

"To go towards their next meal? How much do missionaries cost?"

"To save their souls alive," said Daphne zealously.

"I'm glad something's to be saved alive," said I.

Before she could reply, tea began to appear. When the footman had
retired to fetch the second instalment of accessories, I pointed the
finger of scorn at the table, upon which he had set the tray.

"That parody emanated from a bazaar," I said contemptuously.

"It does for the garden," said my sister.

"It'd do for anything," said I. "Its silly sides, its crazy legs-"

"Crazy?" cried Daphne indignantly. "It'd bear an elephant."

"What if it would?" I said severely. "It's months since we gave up the
elephants."

"Is the kettle ready?"

"It boils not, neither does it sing."

"For which piece of irreverence you will do something on Thursday."

"My dear girl," I said hurriedly, "if it were not imperative for me to
be in Town--"

"You will do something on Thursday." I groaned.

"And this," I said, "this is my mother's daughter! We have been nursed
together, scolded together, dandled in the same arms. If she had not
been the stronger of the two, we should have played with the same toys."

I groaned again. Berry opened his eyes.

"The value of a siesta upon a summer afternoon--" he began.

I cut in with a bitter laugh. "What's he going to do?" I said.

"Take a stall, of course," said Daphne.

"Is he?" said Berry comfortably. "Is he? If motoring with Jonah to
Huntercombe, and playing golf all day, is not incompatible with taking
a stall on Thursday, I will sell children's underwear and egg cosies
with eclat. Otherwise--"

"Golf," I said, "golf! Why don't I play golf?"

"I know," said Berry; "because--"

"Miserable man!" said Daphne.

"Who?" said her husband.

"You."

Berry turned to me. "You hear?" he said. "Vulgar abuse. And why?
Simply because a previous engagement denies to me the opportunity of
subscribing to this charitable imposition. Humble as would