ce the days when I
wore sailor suits and she hadn't any front teeth, yet only now was I
beginning to get on to her hidden depths. A simple, jolly, kindly young
pimple she had always struck me as--the sort you could more or less rely
on not to hurt a fly. But here she was now laughing heartlessly--at
least, I seemed to remember hearing her laugh heartlessly--like something
cold and callous out of a sophisticated talkie, and fairly spitting on
her hands in her determination to bring Tuppy's grey hairs in sorrow to
the grave.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again--girls are rummy. Old Pop
Kipling never said a truer word than when he made that crack about the f.
of the s. being more d. than the m.

It seemed to me in the circs. that there was but one thing to do--that is
head for the dining-room and take a slash at the cold collation of which
Jeeves had spoken. I felt in urgent need of sustenance, for the recent
interview had pulled me down a bit. There is no gainsaying the fact that
this naked-emotion stuff reduces a chap's vitality and puts him in the
vein for a good whack at the beef and ham.

To the dining-room, accordingly, I repaired, and had barely crossed the
threshold when I perceived Aunt Dahlia at the sideboard, tucking into
salmon mayonnaise.

The spectacle drew from me a quick "Oh, ah," for I was somewhat
embarrassed. The last time this relative and I had enjoyed a
_tete-a-tete,_ it will be remembered, she had sketched out plans for
drowning me in the kitchen-garden pond, and I was not quite sure what
my present standing with her was.

I was relieved to find her in genial mood. Nothing could have exceeded
the cordiality with which she waved her fork.

"Hallo, Bertie, you old ass," was her very matey greeting. "I thought I
shouldn't find you far away from the food. Try some of this salmon.
Excellent."

"Anatole's?" I queried.

"No. He's still in bed. But the kitchen maid has struck an inspired
streak. It suddenly seems to have come home to her that she isn't
catering for a covey of buzzards in the Sahara Desert, and she has put
out something quite fit for human consumption. There is good in the girl,
after all, and I hope she enjoys herself at the dance."

I ladled out a portion of salmon, and we fell into pleasant conversation,
chatting of this servants' ball at the Stretchley-Budds and speculating
idly, I recall, as to what Seppings, the butler, would look like, doing
the rumba.

It was not