_MISS MAPP_

 _By E. F. Benson, Author of "Queen Lucia. " "Dodo Wonders. " &c. _

 _McCLELLAND & STEWART, LTD. , TORONTO_

PREFACE

I lingered at the window of the garden-room from which Miss Mapp sooften and so ominously looked forth. To the left was the front of herhouse, straight ahead the steep cobbled way, with a glimpse of the HighStreet at the end, to the right the crooked chimney and the church. 

The street was populous with passengers, but search as I might, I couldsee none who ever so remotely resembled the objects of her vigilance. 

E. F. BENSON. 

Lamb House, Rye. 

_Printed in Great Britain. _

CHAPTER I

Miss Elizabeth Mapp might have been forty, and she had taken advantageof this opportunity by being just a year or two older. Her face was ofhigh vivid colour and was corrugated by chronic rage and curiosity; butthese vivifying emotions had preserved to her an astonishing activity ofmind and body, which fully accounted for the comparative adolescencewith which she would have been credited anywhere except in the charminglittle town which she had inhabited so long. Anger and the gravestsuspicions about everybody had kept her young and on the boil. 

She sat, on this hot July morning, like a large bird of prey at the veryconvenient window of her garden-room, the ample bow of which formed astrategical point of high value. This garden-room, solid and spacious, was built at right angles to the front of her house, and looked straightdown the very interesting street which debouched at its lower end intothe High Street of Tilling. Exactly opposite her front door the roadturned sharply, so that as she looked out from this projecting window, her own house was at right angles on her left, the street in questionplunged steeply downwards in front of her, and to her right shecommanded an uninterrupted view of its further course which terminatedin the disused graveyard surrounding the big Norman church. Anything ofinterest about the church, however, could be gleaned from a guide-book, and Miss Mapp did not occupy herself much with such coldly venerabletopics. Far more to her mind was the fact that between the church andher strategic window was the cottage in which her gardener lived, andshe could thus see, when not otherwise engaged, whether he went homebefore twelve, or failed to get back to her garden again by one, for hehad to cross the street in front of her very eyes. Similarly she couldobserve whether any of his abandoned family ever came out from hergarden door weighted with suspicious baskets, which might containsmuggled vegetables. Only yesterday morning she had hurried forth with adangerous smile to intercept a laden urchin, with inquiries as to whatwas in "that nice basket. " On that occasion that nice basket had provedto contain a strawberry net which was being sent for repair to thegardener's wife; so there was nothing more to be done except verify itsreturn. This she did from a side window of the garden-room whichcommanded the strawberry beds; she could sit quite close to that, for itwas screened by the large-leaved branches of a fig-tree and she couldspy unseen. 

Otherwise this road to the right leading up to the church was of nogreat importance (except on Sunday morning, when she could get apractically complete list of those who attended Divine Service), for noone of real interest lived in the humble dwellings which lined it. Tothe left was the front of her own house at right angles to the strategicwindow, and with regard to that a good many useful observations mightbe, and were, made. She could, from behind a curtain negligentlyhalf-drawn across the side of the window nearest the house, have an eyeon her housemaid at work, and notice if she leaned out of a window, ormade remarks to a friend passing in the street, or waved salutationswith a duster. Swift upon such discoveries, she would execute a flankmarch across the few steps of garden and steal into the house, noiselessly ascend the stairs, and catch the offender red-handed at thispublic dalliance. But all such domestic espionage to right and left wasflavourless and insipid compared to the tremendous discoveries whichdaily and hourly awaited the trained observer of the street that laydirectly in front of her window. 

There was little that concerned the social movements of Tilling thatcould not be proved, or at least reasonably conjectured, from MissMapp's eyrie. Just below her house on the left stood Major Flint'sresidence, of Georgian red brick like her own, and opposite was that ofCaptain Puffin. They were both bachelors, though Major Flint wasgenerally supposed to have been the hero of some amazingly amorousadventures in early life, and always turned the subject with greatabruptness when anything connected with duelling was mentioned. It wasnot, therefore, unreasonable to infer that he had had experiences of abloody sort, and colour was added to this romantic conjecture by thefact that in damp, rheumatic weather his left arm was very stiff, and hehad been known to say that his wound troubled him. What wound that wasno one exactly knew (it might have been anything from a vaccination markto a sabre-cut), for having said that his wound troubled him, he wouldinvariably add: "Pshaw! that's enough about an old campaigner"; andthough he might subsequently talk of nothing else except the oldcampaigner, he drew a veil over his old campaigns. That he had seenservice in India was, indeed, probable by his referring to lunch astiffin, and calling to his parlour-maid with the ejaculation of"Qui-hi. " As her name was Sarah, this was clearly a reminiscence of daysin bungalows. When not in a rage, his manner to his own sex was bluffand hearty; but whether in a rage or not, his manner to the fairies, orlovely woman, was gallant and pompous in the extreme. He certainly had alock of hair in a small gold specimen case on his watch-chain, and hadbeen seen to kiss it when, rather carelessly, he thought that he wasunobserved. 

Miss Mapp's eye, as she took her seat in her window on this sunny Julymorning, lingered for a moment on the Major's house, before sheproceeded to give a disgusted glance at the pictures on the back page ofher morning illustrated paper, which chiefly represented young womendancing in rings in the surf, or lying on the beach in attitudes whichMiss Mapp would have scorned to adjust herself to. Neither the Major norCaptain Puffin were very early risers, but it was about time that thefirst signals of animation might be expected. Indeed, at this moment, she quite distinctly heard that muffled roar which to her experiencedear was easily interpreted to be "Qui-hi!"

"So the Major has just come down to breakfast, " she mechanicallyinferred, "and it's close on ten o'clock. Let me see: Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday--Porridge morning. "

Her penetrating glance shifted to the house exactly opposite to that inwhich it was porridge morning, and even as she looked a hand was thrustout of a small upper window and deposited a sponge on the sill. Thenfrom the inside the lower sash was thrust firmly down, so as to preventthe sponge from blowing away and falling into the street. CaptainPuffin, it was therefore clear, was a little later than the Major thatmorning. But he always shaved and brushed his teeth before his bath, sothat there was but a few minutes between them. 

General manoeuvres in Tilling, the gradual burstings of fluttering lifefrom the chrysalis of the night, the emergence of the ladies of the townwith their wicker-baskets in their hands for housekeeping purchases, theexodus of men to catch the 11. 20 a. M. Steam-tram out to the golf links, and other first steps in the duties and diversions of the day, did notget into full swing till half-past ten, and Miss Mapp had ample time toskim the headlines of her paper and indulge in chaste meditations aboutthe occupants of these two houses, before she need really make herselfalert to miss nothing. Of the two, Major Flint, without doubt, was themore attractive to the feminine sense; for years Miss Mapp had tried tocajole him into marrying her, and had not nearly finished yet. With hisrecord of adventure, with the romantic reek of India (and camphor) inthe tiger-skin of the rugs that strewed his hall and surged like arising tide up the wall, with his haughty and gallant manner, with hisloud pshawings and sniffs at "nonsense and balderdash, " his thumpings onthe table to emphasize an argument, with his wound and his prodigiousswipes at golf, his intolerance of any who believed in ghosts, microbesor vegetarianism, there was something dashing and risky about him; youfelt that you were in the presence of some hot coal straight from thefurnace of creation. Captain Puffin, on the other hand, was of clay sodifferent that he could hardly be considered to be made of clay at all. He was lame and short and meagre, with strings of peaceful beads andPapuan aprons in his hall instead of wild tiger-skins, and had a jerky, inattentive manner and a high pitched voice. Yet to Miss Mapp's mindthere was something behind his unimpressiveness that had a mysteriousquality--all the more so, because nothing of it appeared on the surface. Nobody could call Major Flint, with his bawlings and his sniffings, theleast mysterious. He laid all his loud cards on the table, great hulkingkings and aces. But Miss Mapp felt far from sure that Captain Puffin didnot hold a joker which would some time come to light. The idea of beingMrs. Puffin was not so attractive as the other, but she occasionallygave it her remote consideration. 

Yet there was mystery about them both, in spite of the fact that most oftheir movements were so amply accounted for. As a rule, they played golftogether in the morning, reposed in the afternoon, as could easily beverified by anyone standing on a still day in the road between theirhouses and listening to the loud and rhythmical breathings that fannedthe tranquil air, certainly went out to tea-parties afterwards andplayed bridge till dinner-time; or if no such entertainment wasproffered them, occupied arm-chairs at the county club, or laboriouslyamassed a hundred at billiards. Though tea-parties were profuse, diningout was very rare at Tilling; Patience or a jig-saw puzzle occupied thehour or two that intervened between domestic supper and bed-time; butagain and again, Miss Mapp had seen lights burning in the sitting-roomof those two neighbours at an hour when such lights as were still inevidence at Tilling were strictly confined to bedrooms, and should, indeed, have been extinguished there. And only last week, being pluckedfrom slumber by some unaccountable indigestion (for which she blamed asmall green apple), she had seen at no less than twelve-thirty in themorning the lights in Captain Puffin's sitting-room still shiningthrough the blind. This had excited her so much that at risk of topplinginto the street, she had craned her neck from her window, and observed asimilar illumination in the house of Major Flint. They were not togetherthen, for in that case any prudent householder (and God knew that theyboth of them scraped and saved enough, or, if He didn't know, Miss Mappdid) would have quenched his own lights, if he were talking to hisfriend in his friend's house. The next night, the pangs of indigestionhaving completely vanished, she set her alarum clock at the sametimeless hour, and had observed exactly the same phenomenon. Such latehours, of course, amply accounted for these late breakfasts; but why, soMiss Mapp pithily asked herself, why these late hours? Of course theyboth kept summer-time, whereas most of Tilling utterly refused (exceptwhen going by train) to alter their watches because Mr. Lloyd Georgetold them to; but even allowing for that . .. Then she perceived thatsummer-time made it later than ever for its adherents, so that was noexcuse. 

Miss Mapp had a mind that was incapable of believing the improbable, andthe current explanation of these late hours was very improbable, indeed. Major Flint often told the world in general that he was revising hisdiaries, and that the only uninterrupted time which he could find inthis pleasant whirl of life at Tilling was when he was alone in theevening. Captain Puffin, on his part, confessed to a student's curiosityabout the ancient history of Tilling, with regard to which he waspreparing a monograph. He could talk, when permitted, by the hour aboutthe reclamation from the sea of the marsh land south of the town, andabout the old Roman road which was built on a raised causeway, of whichtraces remained; but it argued, so thought Miss Mapp, an unprecedentedegoism on the part of Major Flint, and an equally unprecedented love ofantiquities on the part of Captain Puffin, that they should prosecutetheir studies (with gas at the present price) till such hours. No; MissMapp knew better than that, but she had not made up her mind exactlywhat it was that she knew. She mentally rejected the idea that egoism(even in these days of diaries and autobiographies) and antiquitiesaccounted for so much study, with the same healthy intolerance withwhich a vigorous stomach rejects unwholesome food, and did not allowherself to be insidiously poisoned by its retention. But as she took upher light aluminium opera-glasses to make sure whether it was IsabelPoppit or not who was now stepping with that high, prancing tread intothe stationer's in the High Street, she exclaimed to herself, for thethree hundred and sixty-fifth time after breakfast: "It's verybaffling"; for it was precisely a year to-day since she had first seenthose mysterious midnight squares of illuminated blind. "Baffling, " infact, was a word that constantly made short appearances in Miss Mapp'svocabulary, though its retention for a whole year over one subject wasunprecedented. But never yet had "baffled" sullied her wells of pureundefiled English. 

Movement had begun; Mrs. Plaistow, carrying her wicker basket, cameround the corner by the church, in the direction of Miss Mapp's window, and as there was a temporary coolness between them (following violentheat) with regard to some worsted of brilliant rose-madder hue, which aforgetful draper had sold to Mrs. Plaistow, having definitely promisedit to Miss Mapp . .. But Miss Mapp's large-mindedness scorned to recallthe sordid details of this paltry appropriation. The heat had quitesubsided, and Miss Mapp was, for her part, quite prepared to let thecoolness regain the normal temperature of cordiality the moment thatMrs. Plaistow returned that worsted. Outwardly and publicly friendlyrelationships had been resumed, and as the coolness had lasted six weeksor so, it was probable that the worsted had already been incorporatedinto the ornamental border of Mrs. Plaistow's jumper or winter scarf, and a proper expression of regret would have to do instead. So thenearer Mrs. Plaistow approached, the more invisible she became to MissMapp's eye, and when she was within saluting distance had vanishedaltogether. Simultaneously Miss Poppit came out of the stationer's inthe High Street. 

Mrs. Plaistow turned the corner below Miss Mapp's window, and wentbobbing along down the steep hill. She walked with the motion of thosemechanical dolls sold in the street, which have three legs set as spokesto a circle, so that their feet emerge from their dress with Dutch andrigid regularity, and her figure had a certain squat rotundity thatsuited her gait. She distinctly looked into Captain Puffin's dining-roomwindow as she passed, and with the misplaced juvenility socharacteristic of her waggled her plump little hand at it. At the cornerbeyond Major Flint's house she hesitated a moment, and turned off downthe entry into the side street where Mr. Wyse lived. The dentist livedthere, too, and as Mr. Wyse was away on the continent of Europe, Mrs. Plaistow was almost certain to be visiting the other. Rapidly Miss Mappremembered that at Mrs. Bartlett's bridge party yesterday Mrs. Plaistowhad selected soft chocolates for consumption instead of those stuffedwith nougat or almonds. That furnished additional evidence for thedentist, for generally you could not get a nougat chocolate at all ifGodiva Plaistow had been in the room for more than a minute or two. .. . As she crossed the narrow cobbled roadway, with the grass growingluxuriantly between the rounded pebbles, she stumbled and recoveredherself with a swift little forward run, and the circular feet twinkledwith the rapidity of those of a thrush scudding over the lawn. 

By this time Isabel Poppit had advanced as far as the fish shop threedoors below the turning down which Mrs. Plaistow had vanished. Herprancing progress paused there for a moment, and she waited with oneknee highly elevated, like a statue of a curveting horse, before shefinally decided to pass on. But she passed no further than the fruitshop next door, and took the three steps that elevated it from thestreet in a single prance, with her Roman nose high in the air. Presently she emerged, but with no obvious rotundity like that of amelon projecting from her basket, so that Miss Mapp could see exactlywhat she had purchased, and went back to the fish shop again. Surely shewould not put fish on the top of fruit, and even as Miss Mapp's lucidintelligence rejected this supposition, the true solution struck her. "Ice, " she said to herself, and, sure enough, projecting from the top ofMiss Poppit's basket when she came out was an angular peak, wrapped upin paper already wet. 

Miss Poppit came up the street and Miss Mapp put up her illustratedpaper again, with the revolting picture of the Brighton sea-nymphsturned towards the window. Peeping out behind it, she observed that MissPoppit's basket was apparently oozing with bright venous blood, andfelt certain that she had bought red currants. That, coupled with theice, made conjecture complete. She had bought red currants slightlydamaged (or they would not have oozed so speedily), in order to makethat iced red-currant fool of which she had so freely partaken at MissMapp's last bridge party. That was a very scurvy trick, for icedred-currant fool was an invention of Miss Mapp's, who, when it waspraised, said that she inherited the recipe from her grandmother. ButMiss Poppit had evidently entered the lists against Grandmamma Mapp, andshe had as evidently guessed that quite inferior fruit--fruit that wasdistinctly "off, " was undetectable when severely iced. Miss Mapp couldonly hope that the fruit in the basket now bobbing past her window wasso much "off" that it had begun to ferment. Fermented red-currant foolwas nasty to the taste, and, if persevered in, disastrous in itseffects. General unpopularity might be needed to teach Miss Poppit notto trespass on Grandmamma Mapp's preserves. 

Isabel Poppit lived with a flashy and condescending mother just roundthe corner beyond the gardener's cottage, and opposite the west end ofthe church. They were comparatively new inhabitants of Tilling, havingsettled here only two or three years ago, and Tilling had not yet quiteceased to regard them as rather suspicious characters. Suspicionsmouldered, though it blazed no longer. They were certainly rich, andMiss Mapp suspected them of being profiteers. They kept a butler, ofwhom they were both in considerable awe, who used almost to shrug hisshoulders when Mrs. Poppit gave him an order: they kept a motor-car towhich Mrs. Poppit was apt to allude more frequently than would havebeen natural if she had always been accustomed to one, and they went toSwitzerland for a month every winter and to Scotland "for theshooting-season, " as Mrs. Poppit terribly remarked, every summer. Thisall looked very black, and though Isabel conformed to the manners ofTilling in doing household shopping every morning with her wickerbasket, and buying damaged fruit for fool, and in dressing in theoriginal home-made manner indicated by good breeding and narrow incomes, Miss Mapp was sadly afraid that these habits were not the outcome ofchaste and instinctive simplicity, but of the ambition to be received bythe old families of Tilling as one of them. But what did a trueTillingite want with a butler and a motor-car? And if these were notsufficient to cast grave doubts on the sincerity of the inhabitants of"Ye Smalle House, " there was still very vivid in Miss Mapp's mind thatdreadful moment, undimmed by the years that had passed over it, whenMrs. Poppit broke the silence at an altogether too sumptuous lunch byasking Mrs. Plaistow if she did not find the super-tax a grievous burdenon "our little incomes. " . .. Miss Mapp had drawn in her breath sharply, as if in pain, and after a few gasps turned the conversation. .. . Worstof all, perhaps, because more recent, was the fact that Mrs. Poppit hadjust received the dignity of the M. B. E. , or Member of the Order of theBritish Empire, and put it on her cards too, as if to keep the scandalalive. Her services in connection with the Tilling hospital had beenentirely confined to putting her motor-car at its disposal when she didnot want it herself, and not a single member of the Tilling WorkingClub, which had knitted its fingers to the bone and made enoughseven-tailed bandages to reach to the moon, had been offered a similardecoration. If anyone had she would have known what to do: a stingingletter to the Prime Minister saying that she worked not with hope ofdistinction, but from pure patriotism, would have certainly been MissMapp's rejoinder. She actually drafted the letter, when Mrs. Poppit'sname appeared, and diligently waded through column after column ofsubsequent lists, to make sure that she, the originator of the TillingWorking Club, had not been the victim of a similar insult. 

Mrs. Poppit was a climber: that was what she was, and Miss Mapp wasobliged to confess that very nimble she had been. The butler and themotor-car (so frequently at the disposal of Mrs. Poppit's friends) andthe incessant lunches and teas had done their work; she had fed ratherthan starved Tilling into submission, and Miss Mapp felt that she aloneupheld the dignity of the old families. She was positively the only oldfamily (and a solitary spinster at that) who had not surrendered to thePoppits. Naturally she did not carry her staunchness to the extent, soto speak, of a hunger-strike, for that would be singular conduct, onlyworthy of suffragettes, and she partook of the Poppits' hospitality tothe fullest extent possible, but (here her principles came in) she neverreturned the hospitality of the Member of the British Empire, though sheoccasionally asked Isabel to her house, and abused her soundly on allpossible occasions. .. . 

This spiteful retrospect passed swiftly and smoothly through Miss Mapp'smind, and did not in the least take off from the acuteness with whichshe observed the tide in the affairs of Tilling which, after the ebb ofthe night, was now flowing again, nor did it, a few minutes afterIsabel's disappearance round the corner, prevent her from hearing thefaint tinkle of the telephone in her own house. At that she started toher feet, but paused again at the door. She had shrewd suspicions abouther servants with regard to the telephone: she was convinced (though atpresent she had not been able to get any evidence on the point) thatboth her cook and her parlourmaid used it for their own base purposes ather expense, and that their friends habitually employed it forconversation with them. And perhaps--who knows?--her housemaid was theworst of the lot, for she affected an almost incredible stupidity withregard to the instrument, and pretended not to be able either to speakthrough it or to understand its cacklings. All that might very well beassumed in order to divert suspicion, so Miss Mapp paused by the door tolet any of these delinquents get deep in conversation with her friend: asoft and stealthy advance towards the room called the morning-room (asmall apartment opening out of the hall, and used chiefly for thebestowal of hats and cloaks and umbrellas) would then enable her tocatch one of them red-mouthed, or at any rate to overhear fragments ofconversation which would supply equally direct evidence. 

She had got no further than the garden-door into her house when Withers, her parlourmaid, came out. Miss Mapp thereupon began to smile and hum atune. Then the smile widened and the tune stopped. 

"Yes, Withers?" she said. "Were you looking for me?"

"Yes, Miss, " said Withers. "Miss Poppit has just rung you up----"

Miss Mapp looked much surprised. 

"And to think that the telephone should have rung without my hearingit, " she said. "I must be growing deaf, Withers, in my old age. Whatdoes Miss Poppit want?"

"She hopes you will be able to go to tea this afternoon and play bridge. She expects that a few friends may look in at a quarter to four. "

A flood of lurid light poured into Miss Mapp's mind. To expect that afew friends may look in was the orthodox way of announcing a regularparty to which she had not been asked, and Miss Mapp knew as if by aspecial revelation that if she went, she would find that she made theeighth to complete two tables of bridge. When the butler opened thedoor, he would undoubtedly have in his hand a half sheet of paper onwhich were written the names of the expected friends, and if thecaller's name was not on that list, he would tell her with brazenimpudence that neither Mrs. Poppit nor Miss Poppit were at home, while, before the baffled visitor had turned her back, he would admit anothercaller who duly appeared on his reference paper. .. . So then the Poppitswere giving a bridge-party to which she had only been bidden at the lastmoment, clearly to take the place of some expected friend who haddeveloped influenza, lost an aunt or been obliged to go to London: here, too, was the explanation of why (as she had overheard yesterday) MajorFlint and Captain Puffin were only intending to play one round of golfto-day, and to come back by the 2. 20 train. And why seek any further forthe explanation of the lump of ice and the red currants (probablydamaged) which she had observed Isabel purchase? And anyone could see(at least Miss Mapp could) why she had gone to the stationer's in theHigh Street just before. Packs of cards. 

Who the expected friend was who had disappointed Mrs. Poppit could bethought out later: at present, as Miss Mapp smiled at Withers and hummedher tune again, she had to settle whether she was going to be delightedto accept, or obliged to decline. The argument in favour of beingobliged to decline was obvious: Mrs. Poppit deserved to be "served out"for not including her among the original guests, and if she declined itwas quite probable that at this late hour her hostess might not be ableto get anyone else, and so one of her tables would be completelyspoiled. In favour of accepting was the fact that she would get a rubberof bridge and a good tea, and would be able to say somethingdisagreeable about the red-currant fool, which would serve Miss Poppitout for attempting to crib her ancestral dishes. .. . 

A bright, a joyous, a diabolical idea struck her, and she went herselfto the telephone, and genteelly wiped the place where Withers hadprobably breathed on it. 

"So kind of you, Isabel, " she said, "but I am very busy to-day, and youdidn't give me much notice, did you? So I'll try to look in if I can, shall I? I might be able to squeeze it in. "

There was a pause, and Miss Mapp knew that she had put Isabel in a hole. If she successfully tried to get somebody else, Miss Mapp might find shecould squeeze it in, and there would be nine. If she failed to getsomeone else, and Miss Mapp couldn't squeeze it in, then there would beseven. .. . Isabel wouldn't have a tranquil moment all day. 

"Ah, do squeeze it in, " she said in those horrid wheedling tones whichfor some reason Major Flint found so attractive. That was one of theweak points about him, and there were many, many others. But that wasamong those which Miss Mapp found it difficult to condone. 

"If I possibly can, " said Miss Mapp. "But at this late hour--Good-bye, dear, or only _au reservoir_, we hope. "

She heard Isabel's polite laugh at this nearly new and deliciousMalaprop before she rang off. Isabel collected malaprops and wrote themout in a note book. If you reversed the note-book and began at the otherend, you would find the collection of Spoonerisms, which were veryamusing, too. 

Tea, followed by a bridge-party, was, in summer, the chief manifestationof the spirit of hospitality in Tilling. Mrs. Poppit, it is true, hadattempted to do something in the way of dinner-parties, but though shewas at liberty to give as many dinner-parties as she pleased, nobodyelse had followed her ostentatious example. Dinner-parties entailed ahigher scale of living; Miss Mapp, for one, had accurately counted thecost of having three hungry people to dinner, and found that one suchdinner-party was not nearly compensated for, in the way of expense, bybeing invited to three subsequent dinner-parties by your guests. Voluptuous teas were the rule, after which you really wanted no morethan little bits of things, a cup of soup, a slice of cold tart, or adished-up piece of fish and some toasted cheese. Then, after theexcitement of bridge (and bridge was very exciting in Tilling), ajig-saw puzzle or Patience cooled your brain and composed your nerves. In winter, however, with its scarcity of daylight, Tilling commonly gaveevening bridge-parties, and asked the requisite number of friends todrop in after dinner, though everybody knew that everybody else had onlypartaken of bits of things. Probably the ruinous price of coal hadsomething to do with these evening bridge-parties, for the fire thatwarmed your room when you were alone would warm all your guests as well, and then, when your hospitality was returned, you could let yoursitting-room fire go out. But though Miss Mapp was already planningsomething in connection with winter bridge, winter was a long way offyet. .. . 

Before Miss Mapp got back to her window in the garden-room Mrs. Poppit'sgreat offensive motor-car, which she always alluded to as "the Royce, "had come round the corner and, stopping opposite Major Flint's house, was entirely extinguishing all survey of the street beyond. It was clearenough then that she had sent the Royce to take the two out to thegolf-links, so that they should have time to play their round and catchthe 2. 20 back to Tilling again, so as to be in good time for thebridge-party. Even as she looked, Major Flint came out of his house onone side of the Royce and Captain Puffin on the other. The Royceobstructed their view of each other, and simultaneously each of themshouted across to the house of the other. Captain Puffin emitted a loud"Coo-ee, Major, " (an Australian ejaculation, learned on his voyages), while Major Flint bellowed "Qui-hi, Captain, " which, all the world knew, was of Oriental origin. The noise each of them made prevented him fromhearing the other, and presently one in a fuming hurry to start ranround in front of the car at the precise moment that the other ran roundbehind it, and they both banged loudly on each other's knockers. Theseknocks were not so precisely simultaneous as the shouts had been, andthis led to mutual discovery, hailed with peals of falsetto laughter onthe part of Captain Puffin and the more manly guffaws of the Major. .. . After that the Royce lumbered down the grass-grown cobbles of thestreet, and after a great deal of reversing managed to turn the corner. 

Miss Mapp set off with her basket to do her shopping. She carried in itthe weekly books, which she would leave, with payment but not withoutargument, at the tradesmen's shops. There was an item for suet whichshe intended to resist to the last breath in her body, though herbutcher would probably surrender long before that. There was an item foreggs at the dairy which she might have to pay, though it was a monstrousovercharge. She had made up her mind about the laundry, she intended topay that bill with an icy countenance and say "Good morning for ever, "or words to that effect, unless the proprietor instantly producedthe--the article of clothing which had been lost in the wash (like KingJohn's treasures), or refunded an ample sum for the replacing of it. Allthese quarrelsome errands were meat and drink to Miss Mapp: Tuesdaymorning, the day on which she paid and disputed her weekly bills, was asenjoyable as Sunday mornings when, sitting close under the pulpit, shenoted the glaring inconsistencies and grammatical errors in thediscourse. After the bills were paid and business was done, there waspleasure to follow, for there was a fitting-on at the dress-maker's, thefitting-on of a tea-gown, to be worn at winter-evening bridge-parties, which, unless Miss Mapp was sadly mistaken, would astound and agonize byits magnificence all who set eyes on it. She had found the descriptionof it, as worn by Mrs. Titus W. Trout, in an American fashion paper; itwas of what was described as kingfisher blue, and had lumps and wedgesof lace round the edge of the skirt, and orange chiffon round the neck. As she set off with her basket full of tradesmen's books, she picturedto herself with watering mouth the fury, the jealousy, the madness ofenvy which it would raise in all properly-constituted breasts. 

In spite of her malignant curiosity and her cancerous suspicions aboutall her friends, in spite, too, of her restless activities, Miss Mappwas not, as might have been expected, a lady of lean and emaciatedappearance. She was tall and portly, with plump hands, a broad, benignant face and dimpled, well-nourished cheeks. An acute observermight have detected a danger warning in the sidelong glances of herrather bulgy eyes, and in a certain tightness at the corners of herexpansive mouth, which boded ill for any who came within snappingdistance, but to a more superficial view she was a rollicking, good-natured figure of a woman. Her mode of address, too, bore out thismisleading impression: nothing, for instance, could have been moregenial just now than her telephone voice to Isabel Poppit, or her smileto Withers, even while she so strongly suspected her of using thetelephone for her own base purposes, and as she passed along the HighStreet, she showered little smiles and bows on acquaintances andfriends. She markedly drew back her lips in speaking, being in no wayashamed of her long white teeth, and wore a practically perpetual smilewhen there was the least chance of being under observation. Though atsermon time on Sunday, as has been already remarked, she greedily notedthe weaknesses and errors of which those twenty minutes was sorewardingly full, she sat all the time with down-dropped eyes and apretty sacred smile on her lips, and now, when she spied on the otherside of the street the figure of the vicar, she tripped slantinglyacross the road to him, as if by the move of a knight at chess, lookingeverywhere else, and only perceiving him with glad surprise at the verylast moment. He was a great frequenter of tea parties and except in Lentan assiduous player of bridge, for a clergyman's duties, so he veryproperly held, were not confined to visiting the poor and exhorting thesinner. He should be a man of the world, and enter into the pleasures ofhis prosperous parishioners, as well as into the trials of thetroubled. Being an accomplished card-player he entered not only intotheir pleasures but their pockets, and there was no lady of Tilling whowas not pleased to have Mr. Bartlett for a partner. His winnings, so hesaid, he gave annually to charitable objects, though whether thecharities he selected began at home was a point on which Miss Mapp hadquite made up her mind. "Not a penny of that will the poor ever see, "was the gist of her reflections when on disastrous days she paid himseven-and-ninepence. She always called him "Padre, " and had neveractually caught him looking over his adversaries' hands. 

"Good morning, Padre, " she said as soon as she perceived him. "What alovely day! The white butterflies were enjoying themselves so in thesunshine in my garden. And the swallows!"

Miss Mapp, as every reader will have perceived, wanted to know whetherhe was playing bridge this afternoon at the Poppits. Major Flint andCaptain Puffin certainly were, and it might be taken for granted thatGodiva Plaistow was. With the Poppits and herself that made six. .. . 

Mr. Bartlett was humorously archaic in speech. He interlarded archaismswith Highland expressions, and his face was knobby, like a chest ofdrawers. 

"Ha, good morrow, fair dame, " he said. "And prithee, art not thou evenas ye white butterflies?"

"Oh, Mr. Bartlett, " said the fair dame with a provocative glance. "Naughty! Comparing me to a delicious butterfly!"

"Nay, prithee, why naughty?" said he. "Yea, indeed, it's a day to makeye little fowles rejoice! Ha! I perceive you are on the errands of theguid wife Martha. " And he pointed to the basket. 

"Yes; Tuesday morning, " said Miss Mapp. "I pay all my household books onTuesday. Poor but honest, dear Padre. What a rush life is to-day! Ihardly know which way to turn. Little duties in all directions! And you;you're always busy! Such a busy bee!"

"Busy B? Busy Bartlett, quo' she! Yes, I'm a busy B to-day, MistressMapp. Sermon all morning: choir practice at three, a baptism at six. Notime for a walk to-day, let alone a bit turn at the gowf. "

Miss Mapp saw her opening, and made a busy bee line for it. 

"Oh, but you should get regular exercise, Padre, " said she. "You take nocare of yourself. After the choir practice now, and before the baptism, you could have a brisk walk. To please me!"

"Yes. I had meant to get a breath of air then, " said he. "But ye guidDame Poppit has insisted that I take a wee hand at the cartes with them, the wifey and I. Prithee, shall we meet there?"

("That makes seven without me, " thought Miss Mapp in parenthesis. ) Aloudshe said:

"If I can squeeze it in, Padre. I have promised dear Isabel to do mybest. "

"Well, and a lassie can do no mair, " said he. "Au reservoir then. "

Miss Mapp was partly pleased, partly annoyed by the agility with whichthe Padre brought out her own particular joke. It was she who hadbrought it down to Tilling, and she felt she had an option on it at theend of every interview, if she meant (as she had done on this occasion)to bring it out. On the other hand it was gratifying to see how popularit had become. She had heard it last month when on a visit to a friendat that sweet and refined village called Riseholme. It was ratherlooked down on there, as not being sufficiently intellectual. But withina week of Miss Mapp's return, Tilling rang with it, and she let it beunderstood that she was the original humorist. 

Godiva Plaistow came whizzing along the pavement, a short, stout, breathless body who might, so thought Miss Mapp, have acted up to thefull and fell associations of her Christian name without exciting thesmallest curiosity on the part of the lewd. (Miss Mapp had much the samesort of figure, but her height, so she was perfectly satisfied toimagine, converted corpulence into majesty. ) The swift alternation ofthose Dutch-looking feet gave the impression that Mrs. Plaistow wasgoing at a prodigious speed, but they could stop revolving without anywarning, and then she stood still. Just when a collision with Miss Mappseemed imminent, she came to a dead halt. 

It was as well to be quite certain that she was going to the Poppits, and Miss Mapp forgave and forgot about the worsted until she had foundout. She could never quite manage the indelicacy of saying "Godiva, "whatever Mrs. Plaistow's figure and age might happen to be, but alwaysaddressed her as "Diva, " very affectionately, whenever they were onspeaking terms. 

"What a lovely morning, Diva darling, " she said; and noticing that Mr. Bartlett was well out of earshot, "The white butterflies were enjoyingthemselves so in the sunshine in my garden. And the swallows. "

Godiva was telegraphic in speech. 

"Lucky birds, " she said. "No teeth. Beaks. "

Miss Mapp remembered her disappearance round the dentist's corner halfan hour ago, and her own firm inference on the problem. 

"Toothache, darling?" she said. "So sorry. "

"Wisdom, " said Godiva. "Out at one o'clock. Gas. Ready for bridge thisafternoon. Playing? Poppits. "

"If I can squeeze it in, dear, " said Miss Mapp. "Such a hustle to-day. "

Diva put her hand to her face as "wisdom" gave her an awful twinge. Ofcourse she did not believe in the "hustle, " but her pangs prevented herfrom caring much. 

"Meet you then, " she said. "Shall be all comfortable then. Au----"

This was more than could be borne, and Miss Mapp hastily interrupted. 

"Au reservoir, Diva dear, " she said with extreme acerbity, and Diva'sfeet began swiftly revolving again. 

The problem about the bridge-party thus seemed to be solved. The twoPoppits, the two Bartletts, the Major and the Captain with Diva darlingand herself made eight, and Miss Mapp with a sudden recrudescence ofindignation against Isabel with regard to the red-currant fool and thebelated invitation, made up her mind that she would not be able tosqueeze it in, thus leaving the party one short. Even apart from thered-currant fool it served the Poppits right for not asking heroriginally, but only when, as seemed now perfectly clear, somebody elsehad disappointed them. But just as she emerged from the butcher's shop, having gained a complete victory in the matter of that suet, withoutexpending the last breath in her body or anything like it, the whole ofthe seemingly solid structure came toppling to the ground. For onemerging, flushed with triumph, leaving the baffled butcher to try histricks on somebody else if he chose but not on Miss Mapp, she ranstraight into the Disgrace of Tilling and her sex, the suffragette, post-impressionist artist (who painted from the nude, both male andfemale), the socialist and the Germanophil, all incarnate in one frame. In spite of these execrable antecedents, it was quite in vain that MissMapp had tried to poison the collective mind of Tilling against thisCreature. If she hated anybody, and she undoubtedly did, she hated IreneColes. The bitterest part of it all was that if Miss Coles was amused atanybody, and she undoubtedly was, she was amused at Miss Mapp. 

Miss Coles was strolling along in the attire to which Tilling generallyhad got accustomed, but Miss Mapp never. She had an old wide-awake hatjammed down on her head, a tall collar and stock, a large loose coat, knickerbockers and grey stockings. In her mouth was a cigarette, in herhand she swung the orthodox wicker-basket. She had certainly been to theother fishmonger's at the end of the High Street, for a lobster, revivedperhaps after a sojourn on the ice, by this warm sun, which thebutterflies and the swallows had been rejoicing in, was climbing withclaws and waving legs over the edge of it. 

Irene removed her cigarette from her mouth and did something in thegutter which is usually associated with the floor of third-class smokingcarriages. Then her handsome, boyish face, more boyish because her hairwas closely clipped, broke into a broad grin. 

"Hullo, Mapp!" she said. "Been giving the tradesmen what for on Tuesdaymorning?"

Miss Mapp found it extremely difficult to bear this obviously insolentform of address without a spasm of rage. Irene called her Mapp becauseshe chose to, and Mapp (more bitterness) felt it wiser not to provokeColes. She had a dreadful, humorous tongue, an indecent disregard ofpublic or private opinion, and her gift of mimicry was as appalling asher opinion about the Germans. Sometimes Miss Mapp alluded to her as"quaint Irene, " but that was as far as she got in the way of reprisals. 

"Oh, you sweet thing!" she said. "Treasure!"

Irene, in some ghastly way, seemed to take note of this. Why men likeCaptain Puffin and Major Flint found Irene "fetching" and "killing" wasmore than Miss Mapp could understand, or wanted to understand. 

Quaint Irene looked down at her basket. 

"Why, there's my lunch going over the top like those beastly BritishTommies, " she said, "Get back, love. "

Miss Mapp could not quite determine whether "love" was a sarcastic echoof "Treasure. " It seemed probable. 

"Oh, what a dear little lobster, " she said. "Look at his sweet claws. "

"I shall do more than look at them soon, " said Irene, poking it into herbasket again. "Come and have tiffin, qui-hi, I've got to look aftermyself to-day. "

"What has happened to your devoted Lucy?" asked Miss Mapp. Irene livedin a very queer way with one gigantic maid, who, but for her sex, mighthave been in the Guards. 

"Ill. I suspect scarlet-fever, " said Irene. "Very infectious, isn't it?I was up nursing her all last night. "

Miss Mapp recoiled. She did not share Major Flint's robust views aboutmicrobes. 

"But I hope, dear, you've thoroughly disinfected----"

"Oh, yes. Soap and water, " said Irene. "By the way, are you Poppitingthis afternoon?"

"If I can squeeze it in, " said Miss Mapp. 

"We'll meet again, then. Oh----"

"Au reservoir, " said Miss Mapp instantly. 

"No; not that silly old chestnut!" said Irene. "I wasn't going to saythat. I was only going to say: 'Oh, do come to tiffin. ' You and me andthe lobster. Then you and me. But it's a bore about Lucy. I was paintingher. Fine figure, gorgeous legs. You wouldn't like to sit for me tillshe's well again?"

Miss Mapp gave a little squeal and bolted into her dressmaker's. Shealways felt battered after a conversation with Irene, and neededkingfisher blue to restore her. 

CHAPTER II

There is not in all England a town so blatantly picturesque as Tilling, nor one, for the lover of level marsh land, of tall reedy dykes, ofenormous sunsets and rims of blue sea on the horizon, with so fortunatean environment. The hill on which it is built rises steeply from thelevel land, and, crowned by the great grave church so conveniently closeto Miss Mapp's residence, positively consists of quaint corners, rough-cast and timber cottages, and mellow Georgian fronts. Corners andquaintnesses, gems, glimpses and bits are an obsession to the artist, and in consequence, during the summer months, not only did the majorityof its inhabitants turn out into the cobbled ways with sketching-blocks, canvases and paintboxes, but every morning brought into the towncharabancs from neighbouring places loaded with passengers, many of whomjoined the artistic residents, and you would have thought (until aninspection of their productions convinced you of the contrary) that sometremendous outburst of Art was rivalling the Italian Renaissance. Forthose who were capable of tackling straight lines and the intricacies ofperspective there were the steep cobbled streets of charming andirregular architecture, while for those who rightly felt themselvescolourists rather than architectural draughtsmen, there was the viewfrom the top of the hill over the marshes. There, but for one straightline to mark the horizon (and that could easily be misty) there were nopetty conventionalities in the way of perspective, and the eagerpractitioner could almost instantly plunge into vivid greens andcelestial blues, or, at sunset, into pinks and chromes and rose-madder. 

Tourists who had no pictorial gifts would pick their way among thesketchers, and search the shops for cracked china and bits of brass. Fewif any of them left without purchasing one of the famous Tillingmoney-boxes, made in the shape of a pottery pig, who bore on his backthat remarkable legend of his authenticity which ran:

 "I won't be druv, Though I am willing. Good morning, my love, Said the Pig of Tilling. "

Miss Mapp had a long shelf full of these in every colour to adorn herdining-room. The one which completed her collection, of a pleasantmagenta colour, had only just been acquired. She called them "My sweetrainbow of piggies, " and often when she came down to breakfast, especially if Withers was in the room, she said: "Good morning, quaintlittle piggies. " When Withers had left the room she counted them. 

The corner where the street took a turn towards the church, just belowthe window of her garden-room, was easily the most popular stance forsketchers. You were bewildered and bowled over by "bits. " For the mostaccomplished of all there was that rarely attempted feat, the view ofthe steep downward street, which, in spite of all the efforts of theartist, insisted, in the sketch, on going up hill instead. Then, next indifficulty, was the street after it had turned, running by thegardener's cottage up to the churchyard and the church. This, in spiteof its difficulty, was a very favourite subject, for it included, on theright of the street, just beyond Miss Mapp's garden wall, the famouscrooked chimney, which was continually copied from every point of view. The expert artist would draw it rather more crooked than it really was, in order that there might be no question that he had not drawn itcrooked by accident. This sketch was usually negotiated from the threesteps in front of Miss Mapp's front door. Opposite thechurch-and-chimney-artists would sit others, drawing the front dooritself (difficult), and moistening their pencils at their cherry lips, while a little further down the street was another battalion hard atwork at the gabled front of the garden-room and its picturesque bow. Itwas a favourite occupation of Miss Mapp's, when there was a decentgathering of artists outside, to pull a table right into the window ofthe garden-room, in full view of them, and, quite unconscious of theirpresence, to arrange flowers there with a smiling and pensivecountenance. She had other little playful public pastimes: she would gether kitten from the house, and induce it to sit on the table while shediverted it with the tassel of the blind, and she would kiss it on itssweet little sooty head, or she would write letters in the window, orplay Patience there, and then suddenly become aware that there was noend of ladies and gentlemen looking at her. Sometimes she would come outof the house, if the steps were very full, with her own sketchingparaphernalia in her hands and say, ever so coyly: "May I scrigglethrough?" or ask the squatters on her own steps if they could find alittle corner for her. That was so interesting for them: they wouldremember afterwards that just while they were engaged on their sketches, the lady of that beautiful house at the corner, who had been playingwith her kitten in the window, came out to sketch too. She addressedgracious and yet humble remarks to them: "I see you are painting mysweet little home. May I look? Oh, what a lovely little sketch!" Once, on a never-to-be-forgotten day, she observed one of them take a camerafrom his pocket and rapidly focus her as she stood on the top step. Sheturned full-faced and smiling to the camera just in time to catch theclick of the shutter, but then it was too late to hide her face, andperhaps the picture might appear in the _Graphic_ or the _Sketch_, oramong the posturing nymphs of a neighbouring watering-place. .. . 

This afternoon she was content to "scriggle" through the sketchers, andhumming a little tune, she passed up to the churchyard. ("Scriggle" wasone of her own words, highly popular; it connoted squeezing andwriggling. ) There she carefully concealed herself under the boughs ofthe weeping ash tree directly opposite the famous south porch of thechurch. She had already drawn in the lines of this south porch on hersketching-block, transferring them there by means of a tracing from aphotograph, so that formed a very promising beginning to her sketch. Butshe was nicely placed not only with regard to her sketch, for, bypeeping through the pretty foliage of the tree, she could command thefront door of Mrs. Poppit's (M. B. E. ) house. 

Miss Mapp's plans for the bridge-party had, of course, been completelyupset by the encounter with Irene in the High Street. Up till thatmoment she had imagined that, with the two ladies of the house and theBartletts and the Major and the Captain and Godiva and herself, twocomplete tables of bridge would be formed, and she had, therefore, determined that she would not be able to squeeze the party into hernumerous engagements, thereby spoiling the second table. But noweverything was changed: there were eight without her, and unless, at aquarter to four, she saw reason to suppose, by noting the arrivals atthe house, that three bridge tables were in contemplation, she had madeup her mind to "squeeze it in, " so that there would be nine gamblers, and Isabel or her mother, if they had any sense of hospitality to theirguests, would be compelled to sit out for ever and ever. Miss Mapp hadbeen urgently invited: sweet Isabel had made a great point of hersqueezing it in, and if sweet Isabel, in order to be certain of acompany of eight, had asked quaint Irene as well, it would serve herright. An additional reason, besides this piece of good-nature inmanaging to squeeze it in, for the sake of sweet Isabel, lay in the factthat she would be able to take some red-currant fool, and after onespoonful exclaim "Delicious, " and leave the rest uneaten. 

The white butterflies and the swallows were still enjoying themselves inthe sunshine, and so, too, were the gnats, about whose pleasure, especially when they settled on her face, Miss Mapp did not care somuch. But soon she quite ceased to regard them, for, before the quaintlittle gilded boys on each side of the clock above the north porch hadhammered out the three-quarters after three on their bells, visitorsbegan to arrive at the Poppits' door, and Miss Mapp was very activelooking through the boughs of the weeping ash and sitting down again tosmile and ponder over her sketch with her head a little on one side, ifanybody approached. One by one the expected guests presented themselvesand were admitted: Major Flint and Captain Puffin, the Padre and hiswife, darling Diva with her head muffled in a "cloud, " and finallyIrene, still dressed as she had been in the morning, and probablyreeking with scarlet-fever. With the two Poppits these made eightplayers, so as soon as Irene had gone in, Miss Mapp hastily put hersketching things away, and holding her admirably-accurate drawing withits wash of sky not quite dry, in her hand, hurried to the door, for itwould never do to arrive after the two tables had started, since in thatcase it would be she who would have to sit out. 

Boon opened the door to her three staccato little knocks, and sulkilyconsulted his list. She duly appeared on it and was admitted. Havingbanged the door behind her he crushed the list up in his hand and threwit into the fireplace: all those whose presence was desired had arrived, and Boon would turn his bovine eye on any subsequent caller, and saythat his mistress was out. 

"And may I put my sketching things down here, please, Boon, " said MissMapp ingratiatingly. "And will no one touch my drawing? It's a littlewet still. The church porch. "

Boon made a grunting noise like the Tilling pig, and slouched away infront of her down the passage leading to the garden, sniffing. Therethey were, with the two bridge-tables set out in a shady corner of thelawn, and a buffet vulgarly heaped with all sorts of dainty confectionswhich made Miss Mapp's mouth water, obliging her to swallow rapidly onceor twice before she could manage a wide, dry smile: Isabel advanced. 

"De-do, dear, " said Miss Mapp. "Such a rush! But managed to squeeze itin, as you wouldn't let me off. "

"Oh, that was nice of you, Miss Mapp, " said Isabel. 

A wild and awful surmise seized Miss Mapp. 

"And your dear mother?" she said. "Where is Mrs. Poppit?"

"Mamma had to go to town this morning. She won't be back till close ondinner-time. "

Miss Mapp's smile closed up like a furled umbrella. The trap had snappedbehind her: it was impossible now to scriggle away. She had completed, instead of spoiling, the second table. 

"So we're just eight, " said Isabel, poking at her, so to speak, throughthe wires. "Shall we have a rubber first and then some tea? Or teafirst. What says everybody?"

Restless and hungry murmurs, like those heard at the sea-lions'enclosure in the Zoological Gardens when feeding-time approaches, seemedto indicate tea first, and with gallant greetings from the Major, andarchaistic welcomes from the Padre, Miss Mapp headed the generaldrifting movement towards the buffet. There may have been tea there, butthere was certainly iced coffee and Lager beer and large jugs with dewon the outside and vegetables floating in a bubbling liquid in theinside, and it was all so vulgar and opulent that with one accordeveryone set to work in earnest, in order that the garden should presenta less gross and greedy appearance. But there was no sign at present ofthe red-currant fool, which was baffling. .. . 

"And have you had a good game of golf, Major?" asked Miss Mapp, makingthe best of these miserable circumstances. "Such a lovely day! The whitebutterflies were enjoying----"

She became aware that Diva and the Padre, who had already heard aboutthe white butterflies, were in her immediate neighbourhood, and brokeoff. 

"Which of you beat? Or should I say 'won!'" she asked. 

Major Flint's long moustache was dripping with Lager beer, and he made adexterous, sucking movement. 

"Well, the Army and the Navy had it out, " he said. "And if for onceBritain's Navy was not invincible, eh, Puffin?"

Captain Puffin limped away pretending not to hear, and took his heapedplate and brimming glass in the direction of Irene. 

"But I'm sure Captain Puffin played quite beautifully too, " said MissMapp in the vain attempt to detain him. She liked to collect all the menround her, and then scold them for not talking to the other ladies. 

"Well, a game's a game, " said the Major. "It gets through the hours, Miss Mapp. Yes: we finished at the fourteenth hole, and hurried back tomore congenial society. And what have you done to-day? Fairy-errands, I'll be bound. Titania! Ha!"

Suet errands and errands about a missing article of underclothing werereally the most important things that Miss Mapp had done to-day, nowthat her bridge-party scheme had so miscarried, but naturally she wouldnot allude to these. 

"A little gardening, " she said. "A little sketching. A little singing. Not time to change my frock and put on something less shabby. But Iwouldn't have kept sweet Isabel's bridge-party waiting for anything, andso I came straight from my painting here. Padre, I've been trying todraw the lovely south porch. But so difficult! I shall give up trying todraw, and just enjoy myself with looking. And there's your dear Evie!How de do, Evie love?"

Godiva Plaistow had taken off her cloud for purposes of mastication, butwound it tightly round her head again as soon as she had eaten as muchas she could manage. This had to be done on one side of her mouth, orwith the front teeth in the nibbling manner of a rabbit. Everybody, ofcourse, by now knew that she had had a wisdom tooth out at one p. M. Withgas, and she could allude to it without explanation. 

"Dreamed I was playing bridge, " she said, "and had a hand of aces. As Iplayed the first it went off in my hand. All over. Blood. Hope it'llcome true. Bar the blood. "

Miss Mapp found herself soon afterwards partnered with Major Flint andopposed by Irene and the Padre. They had hardly begun to consider theirfirst hands when Boon staggered out into the garden under the weight ofa large wooden bucket, packed with ice, that surrounded an interiorcylinder. 

"Red currant fool at last, " thought Miss Mapp, adding aloud: "O poorlittle me, is it, to declare? Shall I say 'no trumps?'"

"Mustn't consult your partner, Mapp, " said Irene, puffing the end of hercigarette out of its holder. Irene was painfully literal. 

"I don't, darling, " said Miss Mapp, beginning to fizz a little. "Notrumps. Not a trump. Not any sort of trump. There! What are we playingfor, by the way?"

"Bob a hundred, " said the Padre, forgetting to be either Scotch orarchaic. 

"Oh, gambler! You want the poor-box to be the rich box, Padre, " saidMiss Mapp, surveying her magnificent hand with the greatestsatisfaction. If it had not contained so many court-cards, she wouldhave proposed playing for sixpence, not a shilling a hundred. 

All semblance of manners was invariably thrown to the winds by theladies of Tilling when once bridge began; primeval hatred took theirplace. The winners of any hand were exasperatingly condescending to thelosers, and the losers correspondingly bitter and tremulous. Miss Mappfailed to get her contract, as her partner's contribution to successconsisted of more twos and threes than were ever seen together before, and when quaint Irene at the end said, "Bad luck, Mapp, " Miss Mapp'shands trembled so much with passion that she with difficulty marked thescore. But she could command her voice sufficiently to say, "Lovely ofyou to be sympathetic, dear. " Irene in answer gave a short, hoarse laughand dealed. 

By this time Boon had deposited at the left hand of each player a cupcontaining a red creamy fluid, on the surface of which bubblesintermittently appeared. Isabel, at this moment being dummy, hadstrolled across from the other table to see that everybody wascomfortable and provided with sustenance in times of stress, and herewas clearly the proper opportunity for Miss Mapp to take a spoonful ofthis attempt at red-currant fool, and with a wry face, hastily (but nottoo hastily) smothered in smiles, to push the revolting compound awayfrom her. But the one spoonful that she took was so delicious andexhilarating, that she was positively unable to be good for Isabel. Instead, she drank her cup to the dregs in an absent manner, whileconsidering how many trumps were out. The red-currant fool made asimilarly agreeable impression on Major Flint. 

"'Pon my word, " he said. "That's amazingly good. Cooling on a hot daylike this. Full of champagne. "

Miss Mapp, seeing that it was so popular, had, of course, to claim itagain as a family invention. 

"No, dear Major, " she said. "There's no champagne in it. It's myGrandmamma Mapp's famous red-currant fool, with little additions perhapsby me. No champagne: yolk of egg and a little cream. Dear Isabel has gotit very nearly right. "

The Padre had promised to take more tricks in diamonds than he had theslightest chance of doing. His mental worry communicated itself to hisvoice. 

"And why should there be nary a wee drappie o' champagne in it?" hesaid, "though your Grandmamma Mapp did invent it. Weel, let's see yourhand, partner. Eh, that's a sair sight. "

"And there'll be a sair wee score agin us when ye're through with theplayin' o' it, " said Irene, in tones that could not be acquitted of amocking intent. "Why the hell--hallelujah did you go on when I didn'tsupport you?"

Even that one glass of red-currant fool, though there was no champagnein it, had produced, together with the certainty that her opponent hadoverbidden his hand, a pleasant exhilaration in Miss Mapp; but yolk ofegg, as everybody knew, was a strong stimulant. Suddenly the namered-currant fool seemed very amusing to her. 

"Red-currant fool!" she said. "What a quaint, old-fashioned name! Ishall invent some others. I shall tell my cook to make somegooseberry-idiot, or strawberry-donkey. .. . My play, I think. A duckylittle ace of spades. "

"Haw! haw! gooseberry idiot!" said her partner. "Capital! You won't beatthat in a hurry! And a two of spades on the top of it. "

"You wouldn't expect to find a two of spades at the bottom of it, " saidthe Padre with singular acidity. 

The Major was quick to resent this kind of comment from a man, cloth orno cloth. 

"Well, by your leave, Bartlett, by your leave, I repeat, " he said, "Ishall expect to find twos of spades precisely where I please, and when Iwant your criticism----"

Miss Mapp hastily intervened. 

"And after my wee ace, a little king-piece, " she said. "And if mypartner doesn't play the queen to it! Delicious! And I play just onemore. .. . Yes . .. Lovely, partner puts wee trumpy on it! I'm notsurprised; it takes more than that to surprise me; and then Padre's gotanother spade, I ken fine!"

"Hoots!" said the Padre with temperate disgust. 

The hand proceeded for a round or two in silence, during which, by winksand gestures to Boon, the Major got hold of another cupful ofred-currant fool. There was already a heavy penalty of tricks againstMiss Mapp's opponents, and after a moment's refreshment, the Major led aclub, of which, at this period, Miss Mapp seemed to have none. She felthappier than she had been ever since, trying to spoil Isabel's secondtable, she had only succeeded in completing it. 

"Little trumpy again, " she said, putting it on with the lightness of oneof the white butterflies and turning the trick. "Useful littletrumpy----"

She broke off suddenly from the chant of victory which ladies of Tillingwere accustomed to indulge in during cross-roughs, for she discovered inher hand another more than useless little clubby. .. . The silence thatsucceeded became tense in quality. Miss Mapp knew she had revoked andsqueezed her brains to think how she could possibly dispose of the card, while there was a certain calmness about the Padre, which but tooclearly indicated that he was quite content to wait for the inevitabledisclosure. This came at the last trick, and though Miss Mapp made oneforlorn attempt to thrust the horrible little clubby underneath theother cards and gather them up, the Padre pounced on it. 

"What ho, fair lady!" he said, now completely restored. "Methinks thouart forsworn! Let me have a keek at the last trick but three! Verily Iwis that thou didst trump ye club aforetime. I said so; there it is. Eh, that's bonny for us, partner!"

Miss Mapp, of course, denied it all, and a ruthless reconstruction ofthe tricks took place. The Major, still busy with red-currant fool, wasthe last to grasp the disaster, and then instantly deplored theunsportsmanlike greed of his adversaries. 

"Well, I should have thought in a friendly game like this----" he said. "Of course, you're within your right, Bartlett: might is right, hey? butupon my word, a pound of flesh, you know. .. . Can't think what made youdo it, partner. "

"You never asked me if I had any more clubs, " said Miss Mapp shrilly, giving up for the moment the contention that she had not revoked. "Ialways ask if my partner has no more of a suit, and I always maintainthat a revoke is more the partner's fault than the player's. Of course, if our adversaries claim it----"

"Naturally we do, Mapp, " said Irene. "You were down on me sharp enoughthe other day. "

Miss Mapp wrinkled her face up into the sweetest and extremest smile ofwhich her mobile features were capable. 

"Darling, you won't mind my telling you that just at this moment you arebeing dummy, " she said, "and so you mustn't speak a single word. Otherwise there is no revoke, even if there was at all, which Iconsider far from proved yet. "

There was no further proof possible beyond the clear and final evidenceof the cards, and since everybody, including Miss Mapp herself, wasperfectly well aware that she had revoked, their opponents merely markedup the penalty and the game proceeded. Miss Mapp, of course, followingthe rule of correct behaviour after revoking, stiffened into a state ofoffended dignity, and was extremely polite and distant with partner andadversaries alike. This demeanour became even more majestic when in thenext hand the Major led out of turn. The moment he had done it, MissMapp hurriedly threw a random card out of her hand on to the table, inthe hope that Irene, by some strange aberration, would think she had ledfirst. 

"Wait a second, " said she. "I call a lead. Give me a trump, please. "

Suddenly the awful expression as of some outraged empress faded fromMiss Mapp's face, and she gave a little shriek of laughter which soundedlike a squeaking slate pencil. 

"Haven't got one, dear, " she said. "Now may I have your permission tolead what I think best? Thank you. "

There now existed between the four players that state of violentanimosity which was the usual atmosphere towards the end of a rubber. But it would have been a capital mistake to suppose that they were notall enjoying themselves immensely. Emotion is the salt of life, and herewas no end of salt. Everyone was overbidding his hand, and the penaltytricks were a glorious cause of vituperation, scarcely veiled, betweenthe partners who had failed to make good, and caused epidemics ofcondescending sympathy from the adversaries which produced a passion inthe losers far keener than their fury at having lost. What made theconcluding stages of this contest the more exciting was that an eveningbreeze suddenly arising just as a deal was ended, made the cards rise inthe air like a covey of partridges. They were recaptured, and all thehands were found to be complete with the exception of Miss Mapp's, whichhad a card missing. This, an ace of hearts, was discovered by the Padre, face upwards, in a bed of mignonette, and he was vehement in claiming afresh deal, on the grounds that the card was exposed. Miss Mapp couldnot speak at all in answer to this preposterous claim: she could onlysmile at him, and proceed to declare trumps as if nothing hadhappened. .. . The Major alone failed to come up to the full measure ofthese enjoyments, for though all the rest of them were as angry with himas they were with each other, he remained in a most indecorous state ofgood-humour, drinking thirstily of the red-currant fool, and when he wasdummy, quite failing to mind whether Miss Mapp got her contract or not. Captain Puffin, at the other table, seemed to be behaving with the sameimpropriety, for the sound of his shrill, falsetto laugh was as regularas his visits to the bucket of red-currant fool. What if there waschampagne in it after all, so Miss Mapp luridly conjectured! What ifthis unseemly good-humour was due to incipient intoxication? She took alittle more of that delicious decoction herself. 

It was unanimously determined, when the two rubbers came to an endalmost simultaneously, that, as everything was so pleasant andagreeable, there should be no fresh sorting of the players. Besides, thesecond table was only playing stakes of sixpence a hundred, and it wouldbe very awkward and unsettling that anyone should play these moderatepoints in one rubber and those high ones the next. But at this pointMiss Mapp's table was obliged to endure a pause, for the Padre had tohurry away just before six to administer the rite of baptism in thechurch which was so conveniently close. The Major afforded a good dealof amusement, as soon as he was out of hearing, by hoping that he wouldnot baptize the child the Knave of Hearts if it was a boy, or, if agirl, the Queen of Spades; but in order to spare the susceptibilities ofMrs. Bartlett, this admirable joke was not communicated to the nexttable, but enjoyed privately. The author of it, however, made a note inhis mind to tell it to Captain Puffin, in the hopes that it would causehim to forget his ruinous half-crown defeat at golf this morning. Quiteas agreeable was the arrival of a fresh supply of red-currant fool, andas this had been heralded a few minutes before by a loud pop from thebutler's pantry, which looked on to the lawn, Miss Mapp began to waverin her belief that there was no champagne in it, particularly as itwould not have suited the theory by which she accounted for the Major'sunwonted good-humour, and her suggestion that the pop they had all heardso clearly was the opening of a bottle of stone ginger-beer was notdelivered with conviction. To make sure, however, she took one more sipof the new supply, and, irradiated with smiles, made a great concession. 

"I believe I was wrong, " she said. "There is something in it beyond yolkof egg and cream. Oh, there's Boon; he will tell us. "

She made a seductive face at Boon, and beckoned to him. 

"Boon, will you think it very inquisitive of me, " she asked archly, "ifI ask you whether you have put a teeny drop of champagne into thisdelicious red-currant fool?"

"A bottle and a half, Miss, " said Boon morosely, "and half a pint of oldbrandy. Will you have some more, Miss?"

Miss Mapp curbed her indignation at this vulgar squandering of preciousliquids, so characteristic of Poppits. She gave a shrill little laugh. 

"Oh, no, thank you, Boon!" she said. "I mustn't have any more. Delicious, though. "

Major Flint let Boon fill up his cup while he was not looking. 

"And we owe this to your grandmother, Miss Mapp?" he asked gallantly. "That's a second debt. "

Miss Mapp acknowledged this polite subtlety with a reservation. 

"But not the champagne in it, Major, " she said. "Grandmamma Nap----"

The Major beat his thigh in ecstasy. 

"Ha! That's a good Spoonerism for Miss Isabel's book, " he said. "MissIsabel, we've got a new----"

Miss Mapp was very much puzzled at this slight confusion in her speech, for her utterance was usually remarkably distinct. There might be somelittle joke made at her expense on the effect of Grandmamma Mapp'sinvention if this lovely Spoonerism was published. But if she who hadonly just tasted the red-currant fool tripped in her speech, how amplywere Major Flint's good nature and Captain Puffin's incessant laughaccounted for. She herself felt very good-natured, too. How pleasant itall was!

"Oh, naughty!" she said to the Major. "Pray, hush! you're disturbingthem at their rubber. And here's the Padre back again!"

The new rubber had only just begun (indeed, it was lucky that they cuttheir cards without any delay) when Mrs. Poppit appeared on her returnfrom her expedition to London. Miss Mapp begged her to take her hand, and instantly began playing. 

"It would really be a kindness to me, Mrs. Poppit, " she said; "(Nodiamonds at all, partner?) but of course, if you won't---- You've beenmissing such a lovely party. So much enjoyment!"

Suddenly she saw that Mrs. Poppit was wearing on her ample breast asmall piece of riband with a little cross attached to it. Her entirestock of good-humour vanished, and she smiled her widest. 

"We needn't ask what took you to London, " she said. "Congratulations!How was the dear King?"

This rubber was soon over, and even as they were adding up the score, there arose a shrill outcry from the next table, where Mrs. Plaistow, asusual, had made the tale of her winnings sixpence in excess of whatanybody else considered was due to her. The sound of that was sofamiliar that nobody looked up or asked what was going on. 

"Darling Diva and her bawbees, Padre, " said Miss Mapp in an aside. "Somodest in her demands. Oh, she's stopped! Somebody has given hersixpence. Not another rubber? Well, perhaps it is rather late, and Imust say good-night to my flowers before they close up for the night. All those shillings mine? Fancy!"

Miss Mapp was seething with excitement, curiosity and rage, as withMajor Flint on one side of her and Captain Puffin on the other, she wasescorted home. The excitement was due to her winnings, the rage to Mrs. Poppit's Order, the curiosity to the clue she believed she had found tothose inexplicable lights that burned so late in the houses of hercompanions. Certainly it seemed that Major Flint was trying not to stepon the joints of the paving-stones, and succeeding very imperfectly, while Captain Puffin, on her left, was walking very unevenly on thecobbles. Even making due allowance for the difficulty of walking evenlythere at any time, Miss Mapp could not help thinking that a teetotallerwould have made a better job of it than that. Both gentlemen talked atonce, very agreeably but rather carefully, Major Flint promising himselfa studious evening over some very interesting entries in his IndianDiary, while Captain Puffin anticipated the speedy solution of thatproblem about the Roman road which had puzzled him so long. As they saidtheir "Au reservoirs" to her on her doorstep, they took off their hatsmore often than politeness really demanded. 

Once in her house Miss Mapp postponed her good-nights to her sweetflowers, and hurried with the utmost speed of which she was capable toher garden-room, in order to see what her companions were doing. Theywere standing in the middle of the street, and Major Flint, withgesticulating forefinger, was being very impressive over something. .. . 

 * * * * *

Interesting as was Miss Mapp's walk home, and painful as was the lightwhich it had conceivably thrown on the problem that had baffled her forso long, she might have been even more acutely disgusted had shelingered on with the rest of the bridge-party in Mrs. Poppit's garden, so revolting was the sycophantic loyalty of the newly-decorated Memberof the British Empire. .. . She described minutely her arrival at thePalace, her momentary nervousness as she entered the Throne-room, theinstantaneousness with which that all vanished when she came face toface with her Sovereign. 

"I assure you, he gave the most gracious smile, " she said, "just as ifwe had known each other all our lives, and I felt at home at once. Andhe said a few words to me--such a beautiful voice he has. Dear Isabel, Iwish you had been there to hear it, and then----"

"Oh, Mamma, what did he say?" asked Isabel, to the great relief of Mrs. Plaistow and the Bartletts, for while they were bursting with eagernessto know with the utmost detail all that had taken place, the correctattitude in Tilling was profound indifference to anybody of whateverdegree who did not live at Tilling, and to anything that did not happenthere. In particular, any manifestation of interest in kings or otherdistinguished people was held to be a very miserable failing. .. . So theyall pretended to look about them, and take no notice of what Mrs. Poppitwas saying, and you might have heard a pin drop. Diva silently andhastily unwound her cloud from over her ears, risking catching cold inthe hole where her tooth had been, so terrified was she of missing asingle syllable. 

"Well, it was very gratifying, " said Mrs. Poppit; "he whispered to somegentleman standing near him, who I think was the Lord Chamberlain, andthen told me how interested he had been in the good work of the Tillinghospital, and how especially glad he was to be able--and just then hebegan to pin my Order on--to be able to recognize it. Now I call thatwonderful to know all about the Tilling hospital! And such neat, quickfingers he has: I am sure it would take me double the time to make asafety-pin hold, and then he gave me another smile, and passed me on, soto speak, to the Queen, who stood next him, and who had been listeningto all he had said. "

"And did she speak to you too?" asked Diva, quite unable to maintain theright indifference. 

"Indeed she did: she said, 'So pleased, ' and what she put into those twowords I'm sure I can never convey to you. I could hear how sincere theywere: it was no set form of words, as if she meant nothing by it. She_was_ pleased: she was just as interested in what I had done for theTilling hospital as the King was. And the crowds outside: they lined theMall for at least fifty yards. I was bowing and smiling on this side andthat till I felt quite dizzy. "

"And was the Prince of Wales there?" asked Diva, beginning to wind herhead up again. She did not care about the crowds. 

"No, he wasn't there, " said Mrs. Poppit, determined to have noembroidery in her story, however much other people, especially MissMapp, decorated remarkable incidents till you hardly recognized them. "He wasn't there. I daresay something had unexpectedly detained him, though I shouldn't wonder if before long we all saw him. For I noticedin the evening paper which I was reading on the way down here, after Ihad seen the King, that he was going to stay with Lord Ardingly for thisvery next week-end. And what's the station for Ardingly Park if it isn'tTilling? Though it's quite a private visit, I feel convinced that theright and proper thing for me to do is to be at the station, or, at anyrate, just outside, with my Order on. I shall not claim acquaintancewith him, or anything of that kind, " said Mrs. Poppit, fingering herOrder; "but after my reception to-day at the Palace, nothing can be morelikely than that His Majesty might mention--quite casually, ofcourse--to the Prince that he had just given a decoration to Mrs. Poppitof Tilling. And it would make me feel very awkward to think that thathad happened, and I was not somewhere about to make my curtsy. "

"Oh, Mamma, may I stand by you, or behind you?" asked Isabel, completelydazzled by the splendour of this prospect and prancing about thelawn. .. . 

This was quite awful: it was as bad as, if not worse than, thehistorically disastrous remark about super-tax, and a general rigidity, as of some partial cataleptic seizure, froze Mrs. Poppit's guests, rendering them, like incomplete Marconi installations, capable ofreceiving, but not of transmitting. They received these impressions, they also continued (mechanically) to receive more chocolates andsandwiches, and such refreshments as remained on the buffet; but no onecould intervene and stop Mrs. Poppit from exposing herself further. Onereason for this, of course, as already indicated, was that they alllonged for her to expose herself as much as she possibly could, for ifthere was a quality--and, indeed, there were many--on which Tillingprided itself, it was on its immunity from snobbishness: there were, nodoubt, in the great world with which Tilling concerned itself so littlekings and queens and dukes and Members of the Order of the BritishEmpire; but every Tillingite knew that he or she (particularly she) wasjust as good as any of them, and indeed better, being more fortunatethan they in living in Tilling. .. . And if there was a process in theworld which Tilling detested, it was being patronized, and there wasthis woman telling them all what she felt it right and proper for her, as Mrs. Poppit of Tilling (M. B. E. ), to do, when the Heir Apparent shouldpass through the town on Saturday. The rest of them, Mrs. Poppitimplied, might do what they liked, for they did not matter; butshe--she must put on her Order and make her curtsy. And Isabel, by herexpressed desire to stand beside, or even behind, her mother for thisdegrading moment had showed of what stock she came. 

Mrs. Poppit had nothing more to say on this subject; indeed, as Divareflected, there was really nothing more that could be said, unless shesuggested that they should all bow and curtsy to her for the future, andtheir hostess proceeded, as they all took their leave, to hope that theyhad enjoyed the bridge-party which she had been unavoidably preventedfrom attending. 

"But my absence made it possible to include Miss Mapp, " she said. "Ishould not have liked poor Miss Mapp to feel left out; I am always gladto give Miss Mapp pleasure. I hope she won her rubber; she does not likelosing. Will no one have a little more red-currant fool? Boon has madeit very tolerably to-day. A Scotch recipe of my great-grandmother's. "

Diva gave a little cackle of laughter as she enfolded herself in hercloud again. She had heard Miss Mapp's ironical inquiry as to how thedear King was, and had thought at the time that it was probably a pitythat Miss Mapp had said that. 

 * * * * *

Though abhorrence of snobbery and immunity from any taint of it was sofine a characteristic of public social life at Tilling, the expectedpassage of this distinguished visitor through the town on Saturday nextbecame very speedily known, and before the wicker-baskets of the ladiesin their morning marketings next day were half full, there was noquarter which the news had failed to reach. Major Flint had it from Mrs. Plaistow, as he went down to the eleven-twenty tram out to thegolf-links, and though he had not much time to spare (for his work lastnight on his old diaries had caused him to breakfast unusually late thatmorning to the accompaniment of a dismal headache fromover-application), he had stopped to converse with Miss Mapp immediatelyafterwards, with one eye on the time, for naturally he could not fireoff that sort of news point-blank at her, as if it was a matter of anyinterest or importance. 

"Good morning, dear lady, " he said. "By Jove! what a picture of healthand freshness you are!"

Miss Mapp cast one glance at her basket to see that the paper quiteconcealed that article of clothing which the perfidious laundry hadfound. (Probably the laundry knew where it was all the time, and--in afigurative sense, of course--was "trying it on. ")

"Early to bed and early to rise, Major, " she said. "I saw my sweetflowers open their eyes this morning! Such a beautiful dew!"

"Well, my diaries kept me up late last night, " he said. "When all youfascinating ladies have withdrawn is the only time at which I can bringmyself to sit down to them. "

"Let me recommend six to eight in the morning, Major, " said Miss Mappearnestly. "Such a freshness of brain then. "

That seemed to be a cul-de-sac in the way of leading up to the importantsubject, and the Major tried another turning. 

"Good, well-fought game of bridge we had yesterday, " he said. "Just metMrs. Plaistow; she stopped on for a chat after we had gone. "

"Dear Diva; she loves a good gossip, " said Miss Mapp effusively. "Suchan interest she has in other people's affairs. So human andsympathetic. I'm sure our dear hostess told her all about her adventuresat the Palace. "

There was only seven minutes left before the tram started, and thoughthis was not a perfect opening, it would have to do. Besides, the Majorsaw Mrs. Plaistow coming energetically along the High Street withwhirling feet. 

"Yes, and we haven't finished with--ha--royalty yet, " he said, gettingthe odious word out with difficulty. "The Prince of Wales will bepassing through the town on Saturday, on his way to Ardingly Park, wherehe is spending the Sunday. "

Miss Mapp was not betrayed into the smallest expression of interest. 

"That will be nice for him, " she said. "He will catch a glimpse of ourbeautiful Tilling. "

"So he will! Well, I'm off for my game of golf. Perhaps the Navy will bea bit more efficient to-day. "

"I'm sure you will both play perfectly!" said Miss Mapp. 

Diva had "popped" into the grocer's. She always popped everywhere justnow; she popped across to see a friend, and she popped home again; shepopped into church on Sunday, and occasionally popped up to town, andMiss Mapp was beginning to feel that somebody ought to let her know, directly or by insinuation, that she popped too much. So, thinking thatan opportunity might present itself now, Miss Mapp read the news-boardoutside the stationer's till Diva popped out of the grocer's again. Theheadlines of news, even the largest of them, hardly reached her brain, because it entirely absorbed in another subject. Of course, the firstthing was to find out by what train. .. . 

Diva trundled swiftly across the street. 

"Good morning, Elizabeth, " she said. "You left the party too earlyyesterday. Missed a lot. How the King smiled! How the Queen said 'Sopleased. '"

"Our dear hostess would like that, " said Miss Mapp pensively. "She wouldbe so pleased, too. She and the Queen would both be pleased. Quite apair of them. "

"By the way, on Saturday next----" began Diva. 

"I know, dear, " said Miss Mapp. "Major Flint told me. It seemed quite tointerest him. Now I must pop into the stationer's----"

Diva was really very obtuse. 

"I'm popping in there, too, " she said. "Want a time-table of thetrains. "

Wild horses would not have dragged from Miss Mapp that this wasprecisely what she wanted. 

"I only wanted a little ruled paper, " she said. "Why, here's dear Eviepopping out just as we pop in! Good morning, sweet Evie. Lovely dayagain. "

Mrs. Bartlett thrust something into her basket which very much resembleda railway time-table. She spoke in a low, quick voice, as if afraid ofbeing overheard, and was otherwise rather like a mouse. When she wasexcited she squeaked. 

"So good for the harvest, " she said. "Such an important thing to have agood harvest. I hope next Saturday will be fine; it would be a pity ifhe had a wet day. We were wondering, Kenneth and I, what would be theproper thing to do, if he came over for service--oh, here is Kenneth!"

She stopped abruptly, as if afraid that she had betrayed too muchinterest in next Saturday and Sunday. Kenneth would manage it muchbetter. 

"Ha! lady fair, " he exclaimed. "Having a bit crack with wee wifey? Anynews this bright morning?"

"No, dear Padre, " said Miss Mapp, showing her gums. "At least, I'veheard nothing of any interest. I can only give you the news of mygarden. Such lovely new roses in bloom to-day, bless them!"

Mrs. Plaistow had popped into the stationer's, so this perjury wasundetected. 

The Padre was noted for his diplomacy. Just now he wanted to convey theimpression that nothing which could happen next Saturday or Sunday couldbe of the smallest interest to him; whereas he had spent an almostsleepless night in wondering whether it would, in certain circumstances, be proper to make a bow at the beginning of his sermon and another atthe end; whether he ought to meet the visitor at the west door; whetherthe mayor ought to be told, and whether there ought to be specialpsalms. .. . 

"Well, lady fair, " he said. "Gossip will have it that ye Prince of Walesis staying at Ardingly for the Sunday; indeed, he will, I suppose, passthrough Tilling on Saturday afternoon----"

Miss Mapp put her forefinger to her forehead, as if trying to recollectsomething. 

"Yes, now somebody did tell me that, " she said. "Major Flint, I believe. But when you asked for news I thought you meant something that reallyinterested me. Yes, Padre?"

"Aweel, if he comes to service on Sunday----?"

"Dear Padre, I'm sure he'll hear a very good sermon. Oh, I see what youmean! Whether you ought to have any special hymn? Don't ask poor littleme! Mrs. Poppit, I'm sure, would tell you. She knows all about courtsand etiquette. "

Diva popped out of the stationer's at this moment. 

"Sold out, " she announced. "Everybody wanted time-tables this morning. Evie got the last. Have to go to the station. "

"I'll walk with you, Diva, dear, " said Miss Mapp. "There's a parcelthat---- Good-bye, dear Evie, au reservoir. "

She kissed her hand to Mrs. Bartlett, leaving a smile behind it, as itfluttered away from her face, for the Padre. 

Miss Mapp was so impenetrably wrapped in thought as she worked among hersweet flowers that afternoon, that she merely stared at a"love-in-a-mist, " which she had absently rooted up instead of a piece ofgroundsel, without any bleeding of the heart for one of her sweetflowers. There were two trains by which He might arrive--one at 4. 15, which would get him to Ardingly for tea, the other at 6. 45. She wasquite determined to see him, but more inflexible than that resolve wasthe Euclidean postulate that no one in Tilling should think that she hadtaken any deliberate step to do so. For the present she had disarmedsuspicion by the blankness of her indifference as to what might happenon Saturday or Sunday; but she herself strongly suspected that everybodyelse, in spite of the public attitude of Tilling to such subjects, wasdetermined to see him too. How to see and not be seen was the questionwhich engrossed her, and though she might possibly happen to be at thatsharp corner outside the station where every motor had to go slow, onthe arrival of the 4. 15, it would never do to risk being seen thereagain precisely at 6. 45. Mrs. Poppit, shameless in her snobbery, wouldno doubt be at the station with her Order on at both these hours, if thearrival did not take place by the first train, and Isabel would beprancing by or behind her, and, in fact, dreadful though it was tocontemplate, all Tilling, she reluctantly believed, would be hangingabout. .. . Then an idea struck her, so glorious, that she put theuprooted love-in-a-mist in the weed-basket, instead of planting itagain, and went quickly indoors, up to the attics, and from therepopped--really popped, so tight was the fit--through a trap-door on tothe roof. Yes: the station was plainly visible, and if the 4. 15 was thefavoured train, there would certainly be a motor from Ardingly Parkwaiting there in good time for its arrival. From the house-roof shecould ascertain that, and she would then have time to trip down the hilland get to her coal merchant's at that sharp corner outside the station, and ask, rather peremptorily, when the coke for her central heatingmight be expected. It was due now, and though it would be unfortunate ifit arrived before Saturday, it was quite easy to smile away herperemptory manner, and say that Withers had not told her. Miss Mapphated prevarication, but a major force sometimes came along. .. . But ifno motors from Ardingly Park were in waiting for the 4. 15 (as spied fromher house-roof), she need not risk being seen in the neighbourhood ofthe station, but would again make observations some few minutes beforethe 6. 45 was due. There was positively no other train by which He couldcome. .. . 

The next day or two saw no traceable developments in the situation, butMiss Mapp's trained sense told her that there was underground work ofsome kind going on: she seemed to hear faint hollow taps and muffledknockings, and, so to speak, the silence of some unusual pregnancy. Upand down the High Street she observed short whispered conversationsgoing on between her friends, which broke off on her approach. This onlyconfirmed her view that these secret colloquies were connected withSaturday afternoon, for it was not to be expected that, after herfreezing reception of the news, any projected snobbishness should beconfided to her, and though she would have liked to know what Diva andIrene and darling Evie were meaning to do, the fact that they none ofthem told her, showed that they were aware that she, at any rate, wasutterly indifferent to and above that sort of thing. She suspected, too, that Major Flint had fallen victim to this unTilling-like mania, for onFriday afternoon, when passing his door, which happened to be standingopen, she quite distinctly saw him in front of his glass in the hall(standing on the head of one of the tigers to secure a better view ofhimself), trying on a silk top-hat. Her own errand at this moment was tothe draper's, where she bought a quantity of pretty pale blue braid, fora little domestic dress-making which was in arrears, and some riband ofthe same tint. At this clever and unusual hour for shopping, the HighStreet was naturally empty, and after a little hesitation and manyanxious glances to right and left, she plunged into the toy-shop andbought a pleasant little Union Jack with a short stick attached to it. She told Mr. Dabnet very distinctly that it was a present for hernephew, and concealed it inside her parasol, where it lay quite flat andmade no perceptible bulge. .. . 

At four o'clock on Saturday afternoon, she remembered that the damp hadcome in through her bedroom ceiling in a storm last winter, and toldWithers she was going to have a look to see if any tiles were loose. Inorder to ascertain this for certain, she took up through the trap door apair of binocular glasses, through which it was also easy to identifyanybody who might be in the open yard outside the station. Even as shelooked, Mrs. Poppit and Isabel crossed the yard into the waiting-roomand ticket-office. It was a little surprising that there were not morefriends in the station-yard, but at the moment she heard a loud Qui-hiin the street below, and cautiously peering over the parapet, she got anadmirable view of the Major in a frock-coat and tall hat. A "Coo-ee"answered him, and Captain Puffin, in a new suit (Miss Mapp was certainof it) and a Panama hat, joined him. They went down the street andturned the corner. .. . Across the opening to the High Street there shotthe figure of darling Diva. 

While waiting for them to appear again in the station-yard, Miss Mapplooked to see what vehicles were standing there. It was already tenminutes past four, and the Ardingly motors must have been there by thistime, if there was anything "doing" by the 4. 15. But positively the onlyvehicle there was an open trolly laden with a piano in a sack. Apartfrom knowing all about that piano, for Mrs. Poppit had talked aboutlittle else than her new upright Bluthner before her visit to BuckinghamPalace, a moment's reflection convinced Miss Mapp that this was a veryunlikely mode of conveyance for any guest. .. . She watched for a fewmoments more, but as no other friends appeared in the station-yard, sheconcluded that they were hanging about the street somewhere, poorthings, and decided not to make inquiries about her coke just yet. 

She had tea while she arranged flowers, in the very front of the windowin her garden-room, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing many ofthe baffled loyalists trudging home. There was no need to do more thansmile and tap the window and kiss her hand: they all knew that she hadbeen busy with her flowers, and that she knew what they had been busyabout. .. . Out again they all came towards half-past six, and when shehad watched the last of them down the hill, she hurried back to theroof again, to make a final inspection of the loose tiles through herbinoculars. Brief but exciting was that inspection, for opposite theentrance to the station was drawn up a motor. So clear was the air andso serviceable her binoculars that she could distinguish the vulgarcoronet on the panels, and as she looked Mrs. Poppit and Isabel hurriedacross the station-yard. It was then but the work of a moment to slip onthe dust-cloak trimmed with blue braid, adjust the hat with the blueriband, and take up the parasol with its furled Union Jack inside it. The stick of the flag was uppermost; she could whip it out in a moment. 

 * * * * *

Miss Mapp had calculated her appearance to a nicety. Just as she got tothe sharp corner opposite the station, where all cars slowed down andher coal-merchant's office was situated, the train drew up. By the gatesinto the yard were standing the Major in his top-hat, the Captain in hisPanama, Irene in a civilized skirt; Diva in a brand-new walking dress, and the Padre and wee wifey. They were all looking in the direction ofthe station, and Miss Mapp stepped into the coal-merchant's unobserved. Oddly enough the coke had been sent three days before, and there was noneed for peremptoriness. 

"So good of you, Mr. Wootten!" she said; "and why is everyone standingabout this afternoon?"

Mr. Wootten explained the reason of this, and Miss Mapp, grasping herparasol, went out again as the car left the station. There were too manydear friends about, she decided, to use the Union Jack, and having seenwhat she wanted to she determined to slip quietly away again. Alreadythe Major's hat was in his hand, and he was bowing low, so too wereCaptain Puffin and the Padre, while Irene, Diva and Evie were makinglittle ducking movements. .. . Miss Mapp was determined, when it came toher turn, to show them, as she happened to be on the spot, what a propercurtsy was. 

The car came opposite her, and she curtsied so low that recovery wasimpossible, and she sat down in the road. Her parasol flew out of herhand and out of her parasol flew the Union Jack. She saw a young manlooking out of the window, dressed in khaki, grinning broadly, but not, so she thought, graciously, and it suddenly struck her that there wassomething, beside her own part in the affair, which was not as it shouldbe. As he put his head in again there was loud laughter from the insideof the car. 

Mr. Wootten helped her up and the entire assembly of her friends crowdedround her, hoping she was not hurt. 

"No, dear Major, dear Padre, not at all, thanks, " she said. "So stupid:my ancle turned. Oh, yes, the Union Jack I bought for my nephew, it'shis birthday to-morrow. Thank you. I just came to see about my coke: ofcourse I thought the Prince had arrived when you all went down to meetthe 4. 15. Fancy my running straight into it all! How well he looked. "

This was all rather lame, and Miss Mapp hailed Mrs. Poppit's appearancefrom the station as a welcome diversion. .. . Mrs. Poppit was lookingvexed. 

"I hope you saw him well, Mrs. Poppit, " said Miss Mapp, "after meetingtwo trains, and taking all that trouble. "

"Saw who?" said Mrs. Poppit with a deplorable lack both of manner andgrammar. "Why"--light seemed to break on her odious countenance. "Why, you don't think that was the Prince, do you, Miss Mapp? He arrived hereat one, so the station-master has just told me, and has been playinggolf all afternoon. "

The Major looked at the Captain, and the Captain at the Major. It wasmonths and months since they had missed their Saturday afternoon's golf. 

"It was the Prince of Wales who looked out of that car-window, " saidMiss Mapp firmly. "Such a pleasant smile. I should know it anywhere. "

"The young man who got into the car at the station was no more thePrince of Wales than you are, " said Mrs. Poppit shrilly. "I was close tohim as he came out: I curtsied to him before I saw. "

Miss Mapp instantly changed her attack: she could hardly hold her smileon to her face for rage. 

"How very awkward for you, " she said. "What a laugh they will all haveover it this evening! Delicious!"

Mrs. Poppit's face suddenly took on an expression of the tenderestsolicitude. 

"I hope, Miss Mapp, you didn't jar yourself when you sat down in theroad just now, " she said. 

"Not at all, thank you so much, " said Miss Mapp, hearing her heart beatin her throat. .. . If she had had a naval fifteen-inch gun handy, and hadknown how to fire it, she would, with a sense of duty accomplished, havedischarged it point-blank at the Order of the Member of the BritishEmpire, and at anybody else who might be within range. .. . 

 * * * * *

Sunday, of course, with all the opportunities of that day, stillremained, and the seats of the auxiliary choir, which wereadvantageously situated, had never been so full, but as it was all nouse, the Major and Captain Puffin left during the sermon to catch the12. 20 tram out to the links. On this delightful day it was but naturalthat the pleasant walk there across the marsh was very popular, andgolfers that afternoon had a very trying and nervous time, for theladies of Tilling kept bobbing up from behind sand-dunes and bunkers, as, regardless of the players, they executed swift flank marches in alldirections. Miss Mapp returned exhausted about tea-time to hear fromWithers that the Prince had spent an hour or more rambling about thetown, and had stopped quite five minutes at the corner by thegarden-room. He had actually sat down on Miss Mapp's steps and smoked acigarette. She wondered if the end of the cigarette was there still: itwas hateful to have cigarette-ends defiling the steps to her front-door, and often before now, when sketchers were numerous, she had sent herhousemaid out to remove these untidy relics. She searched for it, butwas obliged to come to the reluctant conclusion that there was nothingto remove. .. . 

CHAPTER III

Diva was sitting at the open drawing-room window of her house in theHigh Street, cutting with a pair of sharp nail scissors into the oldchintz curtains which her maid had told her no longer "paid for themending. " So, since they refused to pay for their mending any more, shewas preparing to make them pay, pretty smartly too, in other ways. Thepattern was of little bunches of pink roses peeping out through trelliswork, and it was these which she had just begun to cut out. ThoughTilling was noted for the ingenuity with which its more fashionableladies devised novel and quaint effects in their dress in an economicalmanner, Diva felt sure, ransack her memory though she might, that nobodyhad thought of _this_ before. 

The hot weather had continued late into September and showed no signsof breaking yet, and it would be agreeable to her and acutely painful toothers that just at the end of the summer she should appear in aperfectly new costume, before the days of jumpers and heavy skirts andlarge woollen scarves came in. She was preparing, therefore, to take thelight white jacket which she wore over her blouse, and cover the broadcollar and cuffs of it with these pretty roses. The belt of the skirtwould be similarly decorated, and so would the edge of it, if there wereenough clean ones. The jacket and skirt had already gone to the dyer's, and would be back in a day or two, white no longer, but of a rich purplehue, and by that time she would have hundreds of these little pink rosesready to be tacked on. Perhaps a piece of the chintz, trellis and all, could be sewn over the belt, but she was determined to have singlelittle bunches of roses peppered all over the collar and cuffs of thejacket and, if possible, round the edge of the skirt. She had alreadytried the effect, and was of the opinion that nobody could possiblyguess what the origin of these roses was. When carefully sewn on theylooked as if they were a design in the stuff. 

She let the circumcised roses fall on to the window-seat, and from timeto time, when they grew numerous, swept them into a cardboard box. Though she worked with zealous diligence, she had an eye to themovements in the street outside, for it was shopping-hour, and therewere many observations to be made. She had not anything like Miss Mapp'sgenius for conjecture, but her memory was appallingly good, and this wasthe third morning running on which Elizabeth had gone into the grocer's. It was odd to go to your grocer's every day like that; groceries twice aweek was sufficient for most people. From here on the floor above thestreet she could easily look into Elizabeth's basket, and she certainlywas carrying nothing away with her from the grocer's, for the only thingthere was a small bottle done up in white paper with sealing wax, which, Diva had no need to be told, certainly came from the chemist's, and wasno doubt connected with too many plums. 

Miss Mapp crossed the street to the pavement below Diva's house, andprecisely as she reached it, Diva's maid opened the door into thedrawing-room, bringing in the second post, or rather not bringing in thesecond post, but the announcement that there wasn't any second post. This opening of the door caused a draught, and the bunches of roseswhich littered the window-seat rose brightly in the air. Diva managed tobeat most of them down again, but two fluttered out of the window. Precisely then, and at no other time, Miss Mapp looked up, and onesettled on her face, the other fell into her basket. Her trainedfaculties were all on the alert, and she thrust them both inside herglove for future consideration, without stopping to examine them justthen. She only knew that they were little pink roses, and that they hadfluttered out of Diva's window. .. . 

She paused on the pavement, and remembered that Diva had not yetexpressed regret about the worsted, and that she still "popped" as muchas ever. Thus Diva deserved a punishment of some sort, and happily, atthat very moment she thought of a subject on which she might be able tomake her uncomfortable. The street was full, and it would be pretty tocall up to her, instead of ringing her bell, in order to save trouble topoor overworked Janet. (Diva only kept two servants, though of coursepoverty was no crime. )

"Diva darling!" she cooed. 

Diva's head looked out like a cuckoo in a clock preparing to chime thehour. 

"Hullo!" she said. "Want me?"

"May I pop up for a moment, dear?" said Miss Mapp. "That's to say ifyou're not very busy. "

"Pop away, " said Diva. She was quite aware that Miss Mapp said "pop" incrude inverted commas, so to speak, for purposes of mockery, and so shesaid it herself more than ever. "I'll tell my maid to pop down and openthe door. "

While this was being done, Diva bundled her chintz curtains together andstored them and the roses she had cut out into her work-cupboard, forsecrecy was an essential to the construction of these decorations. Butin order to appear naturally employed, she pulled out the woollen scarfshe was knitting for the autumn and winter, forgetting for the momentthat the rose-madder stripe at the end on which she was now engaged wasmade of that fatal worsted which Miss Mapp considered to have beenfeloniously appropriated. That was the sort of thing Miss Mapp neverforgot. Even among her sweet flowers. Her eye fell on it the moment sheentered the room, and she tucked the two chintz roses more securely intoher glove. 

"I thought I would just pop across from the grocer's, " she said. "What apretty scarf, dear! That's a lovely shade of rose-madder. Where can Ihave seen something like it before?"

This was clearly ironical, and had best be answered by irony. Diva wasno coward. 

"Couldn't say, I'm sure, " she said. 

Miss Mapp appeared to recollect, and smiled as far back as herwisdom-teeth. (Diva couldn't do that. )

"I have it, " she said. "It was the wool I ordered at Heynes's, and thenhe sold it you, and I couldn't get any more. "

"So it was, " said Diva. "Upset you a bit. There was the wool in theshop. I bought it. "

"Yes, dear; I see you did. But that wasn't what I popped in about. Thiscoal-strike, you know. "

"Got a cellar full, " said Diva. 

"Diva, you've not been hoarding, have you?" asked Miss Mapp with greatanxiety. "They can take away every atom of coal you've got, if so, andfine you I don't know what for every hundredweight of it. "

"Pooh!" said Diva, rather forcing the indifference of this rudeinterjection. 

"Yes, love, pooh by all means, if you like poohing!" said Miss Mapp. "But I should have felt very unfriendly if one morning I found you werefined--found you were fined--quite a play upon words--and I hadn'twarned you. "

Diva felt a little less poohish. 

"But how much do they allow you to have?" she asked. 

"Oh, quite a little: enough to go on with. But I daresay they won'tdiscover you. I just took the trouble to come and warn you. "

Diva did remember something about hoarding; there had surely beendreadful exposures of prudent housekeepers in the papers which were veryuncomfortable reading. 

"But all these orders were only for the period of the war, " she said. 

"No doubt you're right, dear, " said Miss Mapp brightly. "I'm sure I hopeyou are. Only if the coal strike comes on, I think you'll find that theregulations against hoarding are quite as severe as they ever were. Foodhoarding, too. Twemlow--such a civil man--tells me that he thinks weshall have plenty of food, or anyhow sufficient for everybody for quitea long time, provided that there's no hoarding. Not been hoarding food, too, dear Diva? You naughty thing: I believe that great cupboard is fullof sardines and biscuits and bovril. "

"Nothing of the kind, " said Diva indignantly. "You shall see foryourself"--and then she suddenly remembered that the cupboard was fullof chintz curtains and little bunches of pink roses, neatly cut out ofthem, and a pair of nail scissors. 

There was a perfectly perceptible pause, during which Miss Mapp noticedthat there were no curtains over the window. There certainly used to be, and they matched with the chintz cover of the window seat, which wasdecorated with little bunches of pink roses peeping through trellis. This was in the nature of a bonus: she had not up till then connectedthe chintz curtains with the little things that had fluttered down uponher and were now safe in her glove; her only real object in this callhad been to instil a general uneasiness into Diva's mind about the coalstrike and the danger of being well provided with fuel. That she humblyhoped that she had accomplished. She got up. 

"Must be going, " she said. "Such a lovely little chat! But what hashappened to your pretty curtains?"

"Gone to the wash, " said Diva firmly. 

"Liar, " thought Miss Mapp, as she tripped downstairs. "Diva would havesent the cover of the window-seat too, if that was the case. Liar, " shethought again as she kissed her hand to Diva, who was looking gloomilyout of the window. 

 * * * * *

As soon as Miss Mapp had gained her garden-room, she examined themysterious treasures in her left-hand glove. Without the smallest doubtDiva had taken down her curtains (and high time too, for they were sadlyshabby), and was cutting the roses out of them. But what on earth wasshe doing that for? For what garish purpose could she want to usebunches of roses cut out of chintz curtains?

Miss Mapp had put the two specimens of which she had providentiallybecome possessed in her lap, and they looked very pretty against thenavy-blue of her skirt. Diva was very ingenious: she used up all sortsof odds and ends in a way that did credit to her undoubtedlyparsimonious qualities. She could trim a hat with a tooth-brush and abanana in such a way that it looked quite Parisian till you firmlyanalysed its component parts, and most of her ingenuity was devoted todress: the more was the pity that she had such a roundabout figure thather waistband always reminded you of the equator. .. . 

"Eureka!" said Miss Mapp aloud, and, though the telephone bell wasringing, and the postulant might be one of the servants' friends ringingthem up at an hour when their mistress was usually in the High Street, she glided swiftly to the large cupboard underneath the stairs which wasfull of the things which no right-minded person could bear to throwaway: broken basket-chairs, pieces of brown paper, cardboard boxeswithout lids, and cardboard lids without boxes, old bags with holes inthem, keys without locks and locks without keys and worn chintz covers. There was one--it had once adorned the sofa in the garden-room--coveredwith red poppies (very easy to cut out), and Miss Mapp dragged itdustily from its corner, setting in motion a perfect cascade ofcardboard lids and some door-handles. 

Withers had answered the telephone, and came to announce that Twemlowthe grocer regretted he had only two large tins of corned beef, but----

"Then say I will have the tongue as well, Withers, " said Miss Mapp. "Just a tongue--and then I shall want you and Mary to do some cuttingout for me. "

The three went to work with feverish energy, for Diva had got a start, and by four o'clock that afternoon there were enough poppies cut out tofurnish, when in seed, a whole street of opium dens. The dress selectedfor decoration was, apart from a few mildew-spots, the colour of ripecorn, which was superbly appropriate for September. "Poppies in thecorn, " said Miss Mapp over and over to herself, remembering some sweetverses she had once read by Bernard Shaw or Clement Shorter or somebodylike that about a garden of sleep somewhere in Norfolk. .. . 

"No one can work as neatly as you, Withers, " she said gaily, "and Ishall ask you to do the most difficult part. I want you to sew my lovelypoppies over the collar and facings of the jacket, just spacing them alittle and making a dainty irregularity. And then Mary--won't you, Mary?--will do the same with the waistband while I put a border of themround the skirt, and my dear old dress will look quite new and lovely. Ishall be at home to nobody, Withers, this afternoon, even if the Princeof Wales came and sat on my doorstep again. We'll all work together inthe garden, shall we, and you and Mary must scold me if you think I'mnot working hard enough. It will be delicious in the garden. "

Thanks to this pleasant plan, there was not much opportunity for Withersand Mary to be idle. .. . 

 * * * * *

Just about the time that this harmonious party began their work, a farfrom harmonious couple were being just as industrious in the grandspacious bunker in front of the tee to the last hole on the golf links. It was a beautiful bunker, consisting of a great slope of loose, steepsand against the face of the hill, and solidly shored up with timber. The Navy had been in better form to-day, and after a decisive victoryover the Army in the morning and an indemnity of half-a-crown, its matchin the afternoon, with just the last hole to play, was all square. SoCaptain Puffin, having the honour, hit a low, nervous drive that tappedloudly at the timbered wall of the bunker, and cuddled down below it, well protected from any future assault. 

"Phew! That about settles it, " said Major Flint boisterously. "Bad placeto top a ball! Give me the hole?"

This insolent question needed no answer, and Major Flint drove, skyingthe ball to a prodigious height. But it had to come to earth sometime, and it fell like Lucifer, son of the morning, in the middle of the samebunker. .. . So the Army played three more, and, sweating profusely, gotout. Then it was the Navy's turn, and the Navy had to lie on its keelabove the boards of the bunker, in order to reach its ball at all, andmissed it twice. 

"Better give it up, old chap, " said Major Flint. "Unplayable. "

"Then see me play it, " said Captain Puffin, with a chewing motion of hisjaws. 

"We shall miss the tram, " said the Major, and, with the intention ofgiving annoyance, he sat down in the bunker with his back to CaptainPuffin, and lit a cigarette. At his third attempt nothing happened; atthe fourth the ball flew against the boards, rebounded briskly againinto the bunker, trickled down the steep, sandy slope and hit theMajor's boot. 

"Hit you, I think, " said Captain Puffin. "Ha! So it's my hole, Major!"

Major Flint had a short fit of aphasia. He opened and shut his mouth andfoamed. Then he took a half-crown from his pocket. 

"Give that to the Captain, " he said to his caddie, and without lookinground, walked away in the direction of the tram. He had not gone ahundred yards when the whistle sounded, and it puffed away homewardswith ever-increasing velocity. 

 * * * * *

Weak and trembling from passion, Major Flint found that after a fewtottering steps in the direction of Tilling he would be totally unableto get there unless fortified by some strong stimulant, and turned backto the Club-house to obtain it. He always went dead-lame when beaten atgolf, while Captain Puffin was lame in any circumstances, and the two, no longer on speaking terms, hobbled into the Club-house, one after theother, each unconscious of the other's presence. Summoning his lastremaining strength Major Flint roared for whisky, and was told that, according to regulation, he could not be served until six. There waslemonade and stone ginger-beer. .. . You might as well have offered aman-eating tiger bread and milk. Even the threat that he would instantlyresign his membership unless provided with drink produced no effect on apolite steward, and he sat down to recover as best he might with an oldvolume of _Punch_. This seemed to do him little good. His forcedabstemiousness was rendered the more intolerable by the fact thatCaptain Puffin, hobbling in immediately afterwards, fetched from hislocker a large flask full of the required elixir, and proceeded to mixhimself a long, strong tumblerful. After the Major's rudeness in thematter of the half-crown, it was impossible for any sailor of spirit totake the first step towards reconciliation. 

Thirst is a great leveller. By the time the refreshed Puffin hadpenetrated half-way down his glass, the Major found it impossible to beproud and proper any longer. He hated saying he was sorry (no man more)and wouldn't have been sorry if he had been able to get a drink. Hetwirled his moustache a great many times and cleared his throat--itwanted more than that to clear it--and capitulated. 

"Upon my word, Puffin, I'm ashamed of myself for--ha!--for not taking mydefeat better, " he said. "A man's no business to let a game ruffle him. "

Puffin gave his alto cackling laugh. 

"Oh, that's all right, Major, " he said. "I know it's awfully hard tolose like a gentleman. "

He let this sink in, then added:

"Have a drink, old chap?"

Major Flint flew to his feet. 

"Well, thank ye, thank ye, " he said. "Now where's that soda water youoffered me just now?" he shouted to the steward. 

The speed and completeness of the reconciliation was in no wayremarkable, for when two men quarrel whenever they meet, it follows thatthey make it up again with corresponding frequency, else there could beno fresh quarrels at all. This one had been a shade more acute thanmost, and the drop into amity again was a shade more precipitous. 

Major Flint in his eagerness had put most of his moustache into thelife-giving tumbler, and dried it on his handkerchief. 

"After all, it was a most amusing incident, " he said. "There was I withmy back turned, waiting for you to give it up, when your bl--wretchedlittle ball hit my foot. I must remember that. I'll serve you with thesame spoon some day, at least I would if I thought it sportsmanlike. Well, well, enough said. Astonishing good whisky, that of yours. "

Captain Puffin helped himself to rather more than half of what nowremained in the flask. 

"Help yourself, Major, " he said. 

"Well, thank ye, I don't mind if I do, " he said, reversing the flaskover the tumbler. "There's a good tramp in front of us now that the lasttram has gone. Tram and tramp! Upon my word, I've half a mind totelephone for a taxi. "

This, of course, was a direct hint. Puffin ought clearly to pay for ataxi, having won two half-crowns to-day. This casual drink did notconstitute the usual drink stood by the winner, and paid for with cashover the counter. A drink (or two) from a flask was not the samething. .. . Puffin naturally saw it in another light. He had paid for thewhisky which Major Flint had drunk (or owed for it) in hiswine-merchant's bill. That was money just as much as a florin pushedacross the counter. But he was so excessively pleased with himself overthe adroitness with which he had claimed the last hole, that he quiteoverstepped the bounds of his habitual parsimony. 

"Well, you trot along to the telephone and order a taxi, " he said, "andI'll pay for it. "

"Done with you, " said the other. 

Their comradeship was now on its most felicitous level again, and theysat on the bench outside the club-house till the arrival of theirunusual conveyance. 

"Lunching at the Poppits' to-morrow?" asked Major Flint. 

"Yes. Meet you there? Good. Bridge afterwards, suppose. "

"Sure to be. Wish there was a chance of more red-currant fool. That wasa decent tipple, all but the red-currants. If I had had all the oldbrandy that was served for my ration in one glass, and all the champagnein another, I should have been better content. "

Captain Puffin was a great cynic in his own misogynistic way. 

"Camouflage for the fair sex, " he said. "A woman will lick up half abottle of brandy if it's called plum-pudding, and ask for more, whereasif you offered her a small brandy and soda, she would think you wereinsulting her. "

"Bless them, the funny little fairies, " said the Major. 

"Well, what I tell you is true, Major, " said Puffin. "There's old Mapp. Teetotaller she calls herself, but she played a bo'sun's part in thatred-currant fool. Bit rosy, I thought her, as we escorted her home. "

"So she was, " said the Major. "So she was. Said good-bye to us on herdoorstep as if she thought she was a perfect Venus Ana--Ana something. "

"Anno Domini, " giggled Puffin. 

"Well, well, we all get long in the tooth in time, " said Major Flintcharitably. "Fine figure of a woman, though. "

"Eh?" said Puffin archly. 

"Now none of your sailor-talk ashore, Captain, " said the Major, in highgood humour. "I'm not a marrying man any more than you are. Better if Ihad been perhaps, more years ago than I care to think about. Dear me, my wound's going to trouble me to-night. "

"What do you do for it, Major?" asked Puffin. 

"Do for it? Think of old times a bit over my diaries. "

"Going to let the world have a look at them some day?" asked Puffin. 

"No, sir, I am not, " said Major Flint. "Perhaps a hundred yearshence--the date I have named in my will for their publication--someonemay think them not so uninteresting. But all this toasting and butteringand grilling and frying your friends, and serving them up hot for allthe old cats at a tea-table to mew over--Pah!"

Puffin was silent a moment in appreciation of these noble sentiments. 

"But you put in a lot of work over them, " he said at length. "Often whenI'm going up to bed, I see the light still burning in your sitting-roomwindow. "

"And if it comes to that, " rejoined the Major, "I'm sure I've oftendozed off when I'm in bed and woken again, and pulled up my blind, andwhat not, and there's your light still burning. Powerful long roadsthose old Romans must have made, Captain. "

The ice was not broken, but it was cracking in all directions under thisunexampled thaw. The two had clearly indicated a mutual suspicion ofeach other's industrious habits after dinner. .. . They had never gotquite so far as this before: some quarrel had congealed the surfaceagain. But now, with a desperate disagreement just behind them, and theunusual luxury of a taxi just in front, the vernal airs continuedblowing in the most springlike manner. 

"Yes, that's true enough, " said Puffin. "Long roads they were, and dryroads at that, and if I stuck to them from after my supper everyevening till midnight or more, should be smothered in dust. "

"Unless you washed the dust down just once in a while, " said MajorFlint. 

"Just so. Brain-work's an exhausting process; requires a littlestimulant now and again, " said Puffin. "I sit in my chair, youunderstand, and perhaps doze for a bit after my supper, and then I'llget my maps out, and have them handy beside me. And then, if there'ssomething interesting the evening paper, perhaps I'll have a look at it, and bless me, if by that time it isn't already half-past ten or eleven, and it seems useless to tackle archæology then. And I just--just whileaway the time till I'm sleepy. But there seems to be a sort of legendamong the ladies here, that I'm a great student of local topography andRoman roads, and all sorts of truck, and I find it better to leave it atthat. Tiresome to go into long explanations. In fact, " added Puffin in aburst of confidence, "the study I've done on Roman roads these last sixmonths wouldn't cover a threepenny piece. "

Major Flint gave a loud, choking guffaw and beat his fat leg. 

"Well, if that's not the best joke I've heard for many a long day, " hesaid. "There I've been in the house opposite you these last two years, seeing your light burning late night after night, and thinking tomyself, 'There's my friend Puffin still at it! Fine thing to be anenthusiastic archæologist like that. That makes short work of a lonelyevening for him if he's so buried in his books or his maps--Mapps, ha!ha!--that he doesn't seem to notice whether it's twelve o'clock or oneor two, maybe!' And all the time you've been sitting snoozing andboozing in your chair, with your glass handy to wash the dust down. "

Puffin added his falsetto cackle to this merriment. 

"And, often I've thought to myself, " he said, "'There's my friend theMajor in his study opposite, with all his diaries round him, making anote here, and copying an extract there, and conferring with the Viceroyone day, and reprimanding the Maharajah of Bom-be-boo another. He'sspending the evening on India's coral strand, he is, having tiffin andshooting tigers and Gawd knows what--'"

The Major's laughter boomed out again. 

"And I never kept a diary in my life!" he cried. "Why there's enoughcream in this situation to make a dishful of meringues. You and I, youknow, the students of Tilling! The serious-minded students who do a hardday's work when all the pretty ladies have gone to bed. Often and oftenhas old--I mean has that fine woman, Miss Mapp, told me that I work toohard at night! Recommended me to get earlier to bed, and do my workbetween six and eight in the morning! Six and eight in the morning!That's a queer time of day to recommend an old campaigner to be awakeat! Often she's talked to you, too, I bet my hat, about sitting up lateand exhausting the nervous faculties. "

Major Flint choked and laughed and inhaled tobacco smoke till he gotpurple in the face. 

"And you sitting up one side of the street, " he gasped, "pretending tobe interested in Roman roads, and me on the other pulling a long faceover my diaries, and neither of us with a Roman road or a diary to ournames. Let's have an end to such unsociable arrangements, old friend;you bring your Roman roads and the bottle to lay the dust over to me onenight, and I'll bring my diaries and my peg over to you the next. Neverdrink alone--one of my maxims in life--if you can find someone to drinkwith you. And there were you within a few yards of me all the timesitting by your old solitary self, and there was I sitting by my oldsolitary self, and we each thought the other a serious-minded oldbuffer, busy on his life-work. I'm blessed if I heard of two suchpompous old frauds as you and I, Captain! What a sight of hypocrisythere is in the world, to be sure! No offence--mind: I'm as bad as you, and you're as bad as me, and we're both as bad as each other. But nomore solitary confinement of an evening for Benjamin Flint, as long asyou're agreeable. "

The advent of the taxi was announced, and arm in arm they limped downthe steep path together to the road. A little way off to the left wasthe great bunker which, primarily, was the cause of their present amity. As they drove by it, the Major waggled his red hand at it. 

"Au reservoir, " he said. "Back again soon!"

 * * * * *

It was late that night when Miss Mapp felt that she was physicallyincapable of tacking on a single poppy more to the edge of her skirt, and went to the window of the garden-room where she had been working, toclose it. She glanced up at the top story of her own house, and saw thatthe lights in the servants' rooms were out: she glanced to the right andconcluded that her gardener had gone to bed: finally, she glanced downthe street and saw with a pang of pleasure that the windows of theMajor's house showed no sign of midnight labour. This was intenselygratifying: it indicated that her influence was at work in him, for inresponse to her wish, so often and so tactfully urged on him, that hewould go to bed earlier and not work so hard at night, here was thedarkened window, and she dismissed as unworthy the suspicion which hadbeen aroused by the red-currant fool. The window of his bedroom wasdark too: he must have already put out his light, and Miss Mapp madehaste over her little tidyings so that she might not be found atransgressor to her own precepts. But there was a light in CaptainPuffin's house: he had a less impressionable nature than the Major andwas in so many ways far inferior. And did he really find Roman roads sowonderfully exhilarating? Miss Mapp sincerely hoped that he did, andthat it was nothing else of less pure and innocent allurement that kepthim up. .. . As she closed the window very gently, it did just seem to herthat there had been something equally baffling in Major Flint'segoistical vigils over his diaries; that she had wondered whether therewas not something else (she had hardly formulated what) which kept hislights burning so late. But she would now cross him--dear man--and hislate habits, out of the list of riddles about Tilling which awaitedsolution. Whatever it had been (diaries or what not) that used to keephim up, he had broken the habit now, whereas Captain Puffin had not. Shetook her poppy-bordered skirt over her arm, and smiled her thankful wayto bed. She could allow herself to wonder with a little moredefiniteness, now that the Major's lights were out and he was abed, whatit could be which rendered Captain Puffin so oblivious to the passage oftime, when he was investigating Roman roads. How glad she was that theMajor was not with him. .. . "Benjamin Flint!" she said to herself as, having put her window open, she trod softly (so as not to disturb theslumberer next door) across her room on her fat white feet to her bigwhite bed. "Good-night, Major Benjy, " she whispered, as she put herlight out. 

 * * * * *

It was not to be supposed that Diva would act on Miss Mapp's alarminghints that morning as to the fate of coal-hoarders, and give, say, aton of fuel to the hospital at once, in lieu of her usual smallerChristmas contribution, without making further inquiries in the properquarters as to the legal liabilities of having, so she ascertained, three tons in her cellar, and as soon as her visitor had left her thismorning, she popped out to see Mr. Wootten, her coal-merchant. Shereturned in a state of fury, for there were no regulations whatever inexistence with regard to the amount of coal that any householder mightchoose to amass, and Mr. Wootten complimented her on her prudence inhaving got in a reasonable supply, for he thought it quite probablethat, if the coal strike took place, there would be some difficulty inmonth's time from now in replenishing cellars. "But we've had a goodsupply all the summer, " added agreeable Mr. Wootten, "and all mycustomers have got their cellars well stocked. "

Diva rapidly recollected that the perfidious Elizabeth was among them. 

"O but, Mr. Wootten, " she said, "Miss Mapp popped--dropped in to see mejust now. Told me she had hardly got any. "

Mr. Wootten turned up his ledger. It was not etiquette to disclose theaffairs of one client to another, but if there was a cantankerouscustomer, one who was never satisfied with prices and quality, thatclient was Miss Mapp. .. . He allowed a broad grin to overspread hisagreeable face. 

"Well, ma'am, if in a month's time I'm short of coal, there are friendsof yours in Tilling who can let you have plenty, " he permitted himselfto say. .. . 

It was idle to attempt to cut out bunches of roses while her hand was sofeverish, and she trundled up and down the High Street to cool off. Hadshe not been so prudent as to make inquiries, as likely as not she wouldhave sent a ton of coal that very day to the hospital, so strongly hadElizabeth's perfidious warning inflamed her imagination as to the fateof hoarders, and all the time Elizabeth's own cellars were glutted, though she had asserted that she was almost fuelless. Why, she must havein her possession more coal than Diva herself, since Mr. Wootten hadclearly implied that it was Elizabeth who could be borrowed from! Andall because of a wretched piece of rose-madder worsted. .. . 

By degrees she calmed down, for it was no use attempting to plan revengewith a brain at fever-heat. She must be calm and icily ingenious. As thecooling-process went on she began to wonder whether it was worsted alonethat had prompted her friend's diabolical suggestion. It seemed morelikely that another motive (one strangely Elizabethan) was the cause ofit. Elizabeth might be taken for certain as being a coal-hoarderherself, and it was ever so like her to divert suspicion by pretendingher cellar was next to empty. She had been equally severe on any whomight happen to be hoarding food, in case transport was disarranged andsupplies fell short, and with a sudden flare of authentic intuition, Diva's mind blazed with the conjecture that Elizabeth was hoarding foodas well. 

Luck ever attends the bold and constructive thinker: the apple, forinstance, fell from the tree precisely when Newton's mind was gropingafter the law of gravity, and as Diva stepped into her grocer's to beginher morning's shopping (for she had been occupied with roses ever sincebreakfast) the attendant was at the telephone at the back of the shop. He spoke in a lucid telephone-voice. 

"We've only two of the big tins of corned beef, " he said; and there wasa pause, during which, to a psychic, Diva's ears might have seemed togrow as pointed with attention as a satyr's. But she could only hearlittle hollow quacks from the other end. 

"Tongue as well. Very good. I'll send them up at once, " he added, andcame forward into the shop. 

"Good morning, " said Diva. Her voice was tremulous with anxiety andinvestigation. "Got any big tins of corned beef? The ones that containsix pounds. "

"Very sorry, ma'am. We've only got two, and they've just been ordered. "

"A small pot of ginger then, please, " said Diva recklessly. "Will yousend it round immediately?"

"Yes, ma'am. The boy's just going out. "

That was luck. Diva hurried into the street, and was absorbed by theheadlines of the news outside the stationer's. This was a favouriteplace for observation, for you appeared to be quite taken up by thetopics of the day, and kept an oblique eye on the true object of yourscrutiny. .. . She had not got to wait long, for almost immediately thegrocer's boy came out of the shop with a heavy basket on his arm, delivered the small pot of ginger at her own door, and proceeded alongthe street. He was, unfortunately, a popular and a conversational youth, who had a great deal to say to his friends, and the period of waiting tosee if he would turn up the steep street that led to Miss Mapp's housewas very protracted. At the corner he deliberately put down the basketaltogether and lit a cigarette, and never had Diva so acutely deploredthe spread of the tobacco-habit among the juvenile population. 

Having refreshed himself he turned up the steep street. 

He passed the fishmonger's and the fruiterer's; he did not take the turndown to the dentist's and Mr. Wyse's. He had no errand to the Major'shouse or to the Captain's. Then, oh then, he rang the bell at MissMapp's back door. All the time Diva had been following him, keeping herhead well down so as to avert the possibility of observation from thewindow of the garden-room, and walking so slowly that the motion of herfeet seemed not circular at all. .. . Then the bell was answered, and hedelivered into Withers' hands one, two tins of corned beef and a roundox-tongue. He put the basket on his head and came down the street again, shrilly whistling. If Diva had had any reasonably small change in herpocket, she would assuredly have given him some small share in it. Lacking this, she trundled home with all speed, and began cutting outroses with swift and certain strokes of the nail-scissors. 

Now she had already noticed that Elizabeth had paid visits to thegrocer's on three consecutive days (three consecutive days: think ofit!), and given that her purchases on other occasions had been on thesame substantial scale as to-day, it became a matter of thrillinginterest as to where she kept these stores. She could not keep them inthe coal cellar, for that was already bursting with coal, and Diva, whohad assisted her (the base one) in making a prodigious quantity of jamthat year from her well-stocked garden, was aware that the kitchencupboards were like to be as replete as the coal-cellar, before thosehoardings of dead oxen began. Then there was the big cupboard under thestairs, but that could scarcely be the site of this prodigious cache, for it was full of cardboard and curtains and carpets and all therubbishy accumulations which Elizabeth could not bear to part with. Thenshe had large cupboards in her bedroom and spare rooms full tooverflowing of mouldy clothes, but there was positively not anothercupboard in the house that Diva knew of, and she crushed her temples inher hands in the attempt to locate the hiding-place of the hoard. 

Diva suddenly jumped up with a happy squeal of discovery, and in herexcitement snapped her scissors with so random a stroke that shecompletely cut in half the bunch of roses that she was engaged on. Therewas another cupboard, the best and biggest of all and the most secretand the most discreet. It lay embedded in the wall of the garden-room, cloaked and concealed behind the shelves a false book-case, whichcontained no more than the simulacra of books, just books with titlesthat had never yet appeared on any honest book. There were twelvevolumes of "The Beauties of Nature, " a shelf full of "Elegant Extracts, "there were volumes simply called "Poems, " there were "Commentaries, "there were "Travels" and "Astronomy" and the lowest and tallest shelfwas full of "Music. " A card-table habitually stood in front of thisfalse repository learning, and it was only last week that Diva, pryingcasually round the room while Elizabeth had gone to take off hergardening-gloves, had noticed a modest catch let into the wood-work. Without doubt, then, the book-case was the door of the cupboard, andwith a stroke of intuition, too sure to be called a guess, Diva wasaware that she had correctly inferred the storage of this nefarioushoard. It only remained to verify her conclusion, and, if possible, expose it with every circumstance of public ignominy. She was in nohurry: she could bide her time, aware that, in all probability, everyday that passed would see an addition to its damning contents. Some day, when she was playing bridge and the card-table had been moved out, insome rubber when she herself was dummy and Elizabeth greedily playingthe hand, she would secretly and accidentally press the catch which heracute vision had so providentially revealed to her. .. . 

She attacked her chintz curtains again with her appetite for the pinkroses agreeably whetted. Another hour's work would give her sufficientbunches for her purpose, and unless the dyer was as perfidious asElizabeth, her now purple jacket and skirt would arrive that afternoon. Two days' hard work would be sufficient for so accomplished aneedlewoman as herself to make these original decorations. 

In the meantime, for Diva was never idle, and was chiefly occupied withdress, she got out a certain American fashion paper. There was in it thedescription of a tea-gown worn by Mrs. Titus W. Trout which she believedwas within her dressmaking capacity. She would attempt it, anyhow, andif it proved to be beyond her, she could entrust the more difficultparts to that little dressmaker whom Elizabeth employed, and who wascertainly very capable. But the costume was of so daring and splendid anature that she feared to take anyone into her confidence about it, lestsome hint or gossip--for Tilling was a gossipy place--might leak out. Kingfisher blue! It made her mouth water to dwell on the sumptuoussyllables!

 * * * * *

Miss Mapp was so feverishly occupied all next morning with theapplication of poppies to the corn-coloured skirt that she paid verylittle attention to the opening gambits of the day, either as regardsthe world in general, or, more particularly, Major Benjy. After hisearly retirement last night he was probably up with the lark thismorning, and when between half-past ten and eleven his sonorous"Qui-hi!" sounded through her open window, the shock she experiencedinterrupted for a moment her floral industry. It was certainly very oddthat, having gone to bed at so respectable an hour last night, he shouldbe calling for his porridge only now, but with an impulse of unusualoptimism, she figured him as having been at work on his diaries beforebreakfast, and in that absorbing occupation having forgotten how late itwas growing. That, no doubt, was the explanation, though it would benice to know for certain, if the information positively forced itself onher notice. .. . As she worked, (framing her lips with elaborate motionsto the syllables) she dumbly practised the phrase "Major Benjy. "Sometimes in moments of gallantry he called her "Miss Elizabeth, " andshe meant, when she had got accustomed to it by practice, to say "MajorBenjy" to him by accident, and he would, no doubt, beg her to make ahabit of that friendly slip of the tongue. .. . "Tongue" led to a newtrain of thought, and presently she paused in her work, and pulling thecard-table away from the deceptive book-case, she pressed the concealedcatch of the door, and peeped in. 

There was still room for further small precautions against starvationowing to the impending coal-strike, and she took stock of herprovisions. Even if the strike lasted quite a long time, there would nowbe no immediate lack of the necessaries of life, for the cupboardglistened with tinned meats, and the flour-merchant had sent a verysensible sack. This with considerable exertion she transferred to a highshelf in the cupboard, instead of allowing it to remain standing on thefloor, for Withers had informed her of an unpleasant rumour about amouse, which Mary had observed, lost in thought in front of thecupboard. "So mousie shall only find tins on the floor now, " thoughtMiss Mapp. "Mousie shall try his teeth on tins. " . .. There was tea andcoffee in abundance, jars of jam filled the kitchen shelves, and if thismorning she laid in a moderate supply of dried fruits, there was noreason to face the future with anything but fortitude. She would seeabout that now, for, busy though she was, she could not miss theshopping-parade. Would Diva, she wondered, be at her window, snippingroses out of chintz curtains? The careful, thrifty soul. Perhaps thistime to-morrow, Diva, looking out of her window, would see that somebodyelse 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, shecould not help hearing loud, angry remarks about eggs coming frominside. That made it clear that he was still at breakfast, and that ifhe had been working at his diaries in the fresh morning hours andforgetting the time, early rising, in spite of his early retirement lastnight, could not be supposed to suit his Oriental temper. But a changeof habits was invariably known to be upsetting, and Miss Mapp washopeful 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 newstudio (a converted coach-house), smoking a cigarette and dressed like ajockey. 

"Hullo, Mapp, " she said. "Come and have a look round my new studio. Youhaven'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 quiteunconscious that she was being addressed when Irene said "Mapp" in thatodious manner. But she never could summon up sufficient nerve to be rudeto so awful a mimic. .. . 

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

The decoration of the studio was even more appalling than might havebeen expected. There was a German stove in the corner made of pinkporcelain, the rafters and roof were painted scarlet, the walls were ofmagenta distemper and the floor was blue. In the corner was a verylarge orange-coloured screen. The walls were hung with specimens ofIrene's art, there was a stout female with no clothes on at all, whom itwas impossible not to recognize as being Lucy; there were studies of fatlegs and ample bosoms, and on the easel was a picture, evidently inprocess of completion, which represented a man. From this Miss Mappinstantly averted her eyes. 

"Eve, " said Irene, pointing to Lucy. 

Miss Mapp naturally guessed that the gentleman who was almost in thesame costume was Adam, and turned completely away from him. 

"And what a lovely idea to have a blue floor, dear, " she said. "Howoriginal you are. And that pretty scarlet ceiling. But don't you findwhen you're painting that all these bright colours disturb you?"

"Not a bit: they stimulate your sense of colour. "

Miss Mapp moved towards the screen. 

"What a delicious big screen, " she said. 

"Yes, but don't go behind it, Mapp, " said Irene, "or you'll see my modelundressing. "

Miss Mapp retreated from it precipitately, as from a wasp's nest, andexamined some of the studies on the wall, for it was more than probablefrom the unfinished picture on the easel that Adam lurked behind thedelicious screen. Terrible though it all was, she was conscious of anunbridled curiosity to know who Adam was. It was dreadful to think thatthere could be any man in Tilling so depraved as to stand to be lookedat with so little on. .. . 

Irene strolled round the walls with her. 

"Studies of Lucy, " she said. 

"I see, dear, " said Miss Mapp. "How clever! Legs and things! But whenyou have your bridge-party, won't you perhaps cover some of them up, orturn them to the wall? We should all be looking at your pictures insteadof attending to our cards. And if you were thinking of asking the Padre, you know. .. . "

They were approaching the corner of the room where the screen stood, when a movement there as if Adam had hit it with his elbow made MissMapp turn round. The screen fell flat on the ground and within a yard ofher stood Mr. Hopkins, the proprietor of the fish-shop just up thestreet. Often and often had Miss Mapp had pleasant little conversationswith him, with a view to bringing down the price of flounders. He hadlittle bathing-drawers on. .. . 

"Hullo, Hopkins, are you ready?" said Irene. "You know Miss Mapp, don'tyou?"

Miss Mapp had not imagined that Time and Eternity combined could hold soembarrassing a moment. She did not know where to look, but wherever shelooked, it should not be at Hopkins. But (wherever she looked) she couldnot be unaware that Hopkins raised his large bare arm and touched theplace where his cap would have been, if he had had one. 

"Good-morning, Hopkins, " she said. "Well, Irene darling, I must betrotting, and leave you to your----" she hardly knew what to callit--"to your work. "

She tripped from the room, which seemed to be entirely full of unclothedlimbs, and redder than one of Mr. Hopkins's boiled lobsters hurried downthe street. She felt that she could never face him again, but would beobliged to go to the establishment in the High Street where Irene dealt, when it was fish she wanted from a fish-shop. .. . Her head was in a whirlat the brazenness of mankind, especially womankind. How had Irenestarted the overtures that led to this? Had she just said to Hopkinsone morning: "Will you come to my studio and take off all your clothes?"If Irene had not been such a wonderful mimic, she would certainly havefelt it her duty to go straight to the Padre, and, pulling down herveil, confide to him the whole sad story. But as that was out of thequestion, she went into Twenlow's and ordered four pounds of driedapricots. 

CHAPTER IV

The dyer, as Diva had feared, proved perfidious, and it was not till thenext morning that her maid brought her the parcel containing the coatand skirt of the projected costume. Diva had already done her marketing, so that she might have no other calls on her time to interfere with thetacking on of the bunches of pink roses, and she hoped to have the dressfinished in time for Elizabeth's afternoon bridge-party next day, aninvitation to which had just reached her. She had also settled to have acold lunch to-day, so that her cook as well as her parlourmaid coulddevote themselves to the job. 

She herself had taken the jacket for decoration, and was just tackingthe first rose on to the collar, when she looked out of the window, andwhat she saw caused her needle to fall from her nerveless hand. Trippingalong the opposite pavement was Elizabeth. She had on a dress, thematerial of which, after a moment's gaze, Diva identified: it was thatcorn-coloured coat and skirt which she had worn so much last spring. Butthe collar, the cuffs, the waistband and the hem of the skirt werecovered with staring red poppies. Next moment, she called to remembrancethe chintz that had once covered Elizabeth's sofa in the garden-room. 

Diva wasted no time, but rang the bell. She had to make certain. 

"Janet, " she said, "go straight out into the High Street, and walk closebehind Miss Mapp. Look very carefully at her dress; see if the poppieson it are of chintz. "

Janet's face fell. 

"Why, ma'am, she's never gone and----" she began. 

"Quick!" said Diva in a strangled voice. 

Diva watched from her window. Janet went out, looked this way and that, spied the quarry, and skimmed up the High Street on feet that twinkledas fast as her mistress's. She came back much out of breath with speedand indignation. 

"Yes, ma'am, " she said. "They're chintz sure enough. Tacked on, too, just as you were meaning to do. Oh, ma'am----"

Janet quite appreciated the magnitude of the calamity and her voicefailed. 

"What are we to do, ma'am?" she added. 

Diva did not reply for a moment, but sat with eyes closed in profoundand concentrated thought. It required no reflection to decide howimpossible it was to appear herself to-morrow in a dress which seemed toape the costume which all Tilling had seen Elizabeth wearing to-day, andat first it looked as if there was nothing to be done with all thoselaboriously acquired bunches of rosebuds; for it was clearly out of thequestion to use them as the decoration for any costume, and idle tothink of sewing them back into the snipped and gashed curtains. Shelooked at the purple skirt and coat that hungered for their flowers, andthen she looked at Janet. Janet was a short, roundabout person; it wasill-naturedly supposed that she had much the same figure as hermistress. .. . 

Then the light broke, dazzling and diabolical, and Diva bounced to herfeet, blinded by its splendour. 

"My coat and skirt are yours, Janet, " she said. "Get with the work bothof you. Bustle. Cover it with roses. Have it finished to-night. Wear itto-morrow. Wear it always. "

She gave a loud cackle of laughter and threaded her needle. 

"Lor, ma'am!" said Janet, admiringly. "That's a teaser! And thank you, ma'am!"

"It was roses, roses all the way. " Diva had quite miscalculated thenumber required, and there were sufficient not only to cover collar, cuffs and border of the skirt with them but to make another line of themsix inches above the hem. Original and gorgeous as the dress would be, it was yet a sort of parody of Elizabeth's costume which was attractingso much interest and attention as she popped in and out of shops to-day. To-morrow that would be worn by Janet, and Janet (or Diva was muchmistaken) should encourage her friends to get permission to use up oldbits of chintz. Very likely chintz decoration would become quite a vogueamong the servant maids of Tilling. .. . How Elizabeth had got hold of theidea mattered nothing, but anyhow she would be surfeited with the ideabefore Diva had finished with her. It was possible, of course (anythingwas possible), that it had occurred to her independently, but Diva wasloath to give so innocent an ancestry to her adoption of it. It was farmore sensible to take for granted that she had got wind of Diva'sinvention by some odious, underhand piece of spying. What that might bemust be investigated (and probably determined) later, but at present thebusiness of Janet's roses eclipsed every other interest. 

Miss Mapp's shopping that morning was unusually prolonged, for it wasimportant that every woman in Tilling should see the poppies on thecorn-coloured ground, and know that she had worn that dress before Divaappeared in some mean adaptation of it. Though the total cost of herentire purchases hardly amounted to a shilling, she went in and out ofan amazing number of shops, and made a prodigious series of inquiriesinto the price of commodities that ranged from motor-cars tosealing-wax, and often entered a shop twice because (wreathed in smilingapologies for her stupidity) she had forgotten what she was told thefirst time. By twelve o'clock she was satisfied that practicallyeverybody, with one exception, had seen her, and that her costume hadaroused a deep sense of jealousy and angry admiration. So cunning wasthe handiwork of herself, Withers and Mary that she felt fairly surethat no one had the slightest notion of how this decoration of poppieswas accomplished, for Evie had run round her in small mouse-likecircles, murmuring to herself: "Very effective idea; is it woven intothe cloth, Elizabeth? Dear me, I wonder where I could get some like it, "and Mrs. Poppit had followed her all up the street, with eyes glued tothe hem of her skirt, and a completely puzzled face: "but then, " sothought Elizabeth sweetly "even members of the Order of the BritishEmpire can't have everything their own way. " As for the Major, he hadsimply come to a dead stop when he bounced out of his house as shepassed, and said something very gallant and appropriate. Even theabsence of that one inhabitant of Tilling, dear Diva, did not strike ajarring note in this pæan of triumph, for Miss Mapp was quite satisfiedthat Diva was busy indoors, working her fingers to the bone over theapplication of bunches of roses, and, as usual, she was perfectlycorrect in her conjecture. But dear Diva would have to see the newfrock to-morrow afternoon, at the latest, when she came to thebridge-party. Perhaps she would then, for the first time, be wearing theroses herself, and everybody would very pleasantly pity her. This was sorapturous a thought, that when Miss Mapp, after her prolonged shoppingand with her almost empty basket, passed Mr. Hopkins standing outsidehis shop on her return home again, she gave him her usual smile, thoughwithout meeting his eye, and tried to forget how much of him she hadseen yesterday. Perhaps she might speak to him to-morrow and graduallyresume ordinary relations, for the prices at the other fish shop were ashigh as the quality of the fish was low. .. . She told herself that therewas nothing actually immoral in the human skin, however embarrassing itwas. 

 * * * * *

Miss Mapp had experienced a cruel disappointment last night, though thetriumph of this morning had done something to soothe it, for MajorBenjy's window had certainly been lit up to a very late hour, and so itwas clear that he had not been able, twice in succession, to tearhimself away from his diaries, or whatever else detained him, and go tobed at a proper time. Captain Puffin, however, had not sat up late;indeed he must have gone to bed quite unusually early, for his windowwas dark by half-past nine. To-night, again the position was reversed, and it seemed that Major Benjy was "good" and Captain Puffin was "bad. "On the whole, then, there was cause for thankfulness, and as she added atin of biscuits and two jars of bovril to her prudent stores, she foundherself a conscious sceptic about those Roman roads. Diaries (perhaps)were a little different, for egoism was a more potent force thanarchæology, and for her part she now definitely believed that Romanroads spelt some form of drink. She was sorry to believe it, but it washer duty to believe something of the kind, and she really did not knowwhat else to believe. She did not go so far as mentally to accuse him ofdrunkenness, but considering the way he absorbed red-currant fool, itwas clear that he was no foe to alcohol and probably watered the Romanroads with it. With her vivid imagination she pictured him----

Miss Mapp recalled herself from this melancholy reflection and put upher hand just in time to save a bottle of bovril which she had put onthe top shelf in front of the sack of flour from tumbling to the ground. With the latest additions she had made to her larder, it requiredconsiderable ingenuity to fit all the tins and packages in, and for awhile she diverted her mind from Captain Puffin's drinking to her owneating. But by careful packing and balancing she managed to stoweverything away with sufficient economy of space to allow her to shutthe door, and then put the card-table in place again. It was then late, and with a fond look at her sweet flowers sleeping in the moonlight, shewent to bed. Captain Puffin's sitting-room was still alight, and even asshe deplored this, his shadow in profile crossed the blind. Shadows werequeer things--she could make a beautiful shadow-rabbit on the wall by adexterous interlacement of fingers and thumbs--and certainly thisshadow, in the momentary glance she had of it, appeared to have a largemoustache. She could make nothing whatever out of that, except tosuppose that just as fingers and thumbs became a rabbit, so his nosebecame a moustache, for he could not have grown one since he came backfrom golf. .. . 

 * * * * *

She was out early for her shopping next morning, for there were somedelicacies to be purchased for her bridge-party, more particularly somelittle chocolate cakes she had lately discovered which looked very smalland innocent, were in reality of so cloying and substantial a nature, that the partaker thereof would probably not feel capable of making anyserious inroads into other provisions. Naturally she was much on thealert to-day, for it was more than possible that Diva's dress wasfinished and in evidence. What colour it would be she did not know, buta large quantity of rosebuds would, even at a distance, makeidentification easy. Diva was certainly not at her window this morning, so it seemed more than probable that they would soon meet. 

Far away, just crossing the High Street at the further end, she caughtsight of a bright patch of purple, very much of the required shape. There was surely a pink border round the skirt and a pink panel on thecollar, and just as surely Mrs. Bartlett, recognizable for her glidingmouse-like walk, was moving in its fascinating wake. Then the purplepatch vanished into a shop, and Miss Mapp, all smiles and poppies, wentwith her basket up the street. Presently she encountered Evie, who, alsoall smiles, seemed to have some communication to make, but only got asfar as "Have you seen"--when she gave a little squeal of laughter, quiteinexplicable, and glided into some dark entry. A minute afterwards, thepurple patch suddenly appeared from a shop and almost collided with her. It was not Diva at all, but Diva's Janet. 

The shock was so indescribably severe that Miss Mapp's smile was frozen, so to speak, as by some sudden congealment on to her face, and did notthaw off it till she had reached the sharp turn at the end of thestreet, where she leaned heavily on the railing and breathed throughher nose. A light autumnal mist overlay the miles of marsh, but the sunwas already drinking it up, promising the Tillingites another goldenday. The tidal river was at the flood, and the bright water lapped thebases of the turf-covered banks that kept it within its course. Beyondthat was the tram-station towards which presently Major Benjy andCaptain Puffin would be hurrying to catch the tram that would take themout to the golf links. The straight road across the marsh was visible, and the railway bridge. All these things were pitilessly unchanged, andMiss Mapp noted them blankly, until rage began to restore the numbedcurrent of her mental processes. 

 * * * * *

If the records of history contained any similar instance of suchtreachery and low cunning as was involved in this plot of Diva's todress Janet in the rosebud chintz, Miss Mapp would have liked to be toldclearly and distinctly what it was. She could trace the workings ofDiva's base mind with absolute accuracy, and if all the archangels inthe hierarchy of heaven had assured her that Diva had originallyintended the rosebuds for Janet, she would have scorned them for theirclumsy perjury. Diva had designed and executed that dress for herself, and just because Miss Mapp's ingenuity (inspired by the two rosebudsthat had fluttered out of the window) had forestalled her, she had takenthis fiendish revenge. It was impossible to pervade the High Streetcovered with chintz poppies when a parlourmaid was being equallypervasive in chintz rosebuds, and what was to be done with this frockexecuted with such mirth and malice by Withers, Mary and herself she hadno idea. She might just as well give it Withers, for she could no longerwear it herself, or tear the poppies from the hem and bestrew the HighStreet with them. .. . Miss Mapp's face froze into immobility again, forhere, trundling swiftly towards her, was Diva herself. 

Diva appeared not to see her till she got quite close. 

"Morning, Elizabeth, " she said. "Seen my Janet anywhere?"

"No, " said Miss Mapp. 

Janet (no doubt according to instructions received) popped out of ashop, and came towards her mistress. 

"Here she is, " said Diva. "All right, Janet. You go home. I'll see tothe other things. "

"It's a lovely day, " said Miss Mapp, beginning to lash her tail. "Sobright. "

"Yes. Pretty trimming of poppies, " said Diva. "Janet's got rosebuds. "

This was too much. 

"Diva, I didn't think it of you, " said Miss Mapp in a shaking voice. "You saw my new frock yesterday, and you were filled with malice andenvy, Diva, just because I had thought of using flowers off an oldchintz as well as you, and came out first with it. You had meant to wearthat purple frock yourself--though I must say it fits Janetperfectly--and just because I was first in the field you did this. Yougave Janet that frock, so that I should be dressed in the same style asyour parlourmaid, and you've got a black heart, Diva!"

"That's nonsense, " said Diva firmly. "Heart's as red as anybody's, andtalking of black hearts doesn't become _you_, Elizabeth. You knew I wascutting out roses from my curtains----"

Miss Mapp laughed shrilly. 

"Well, if I happen to notice that you've taken your chintz curtainsdown, " she said with an awful distinctness that showed the wisdom-teethof which Diva had got three at the most, "and pink bunches of rosescome flying out of your window into the High Street, even my poor wits, small as they are, are equal to drawing the conclusion that you arecutting roses out of curtains. Your well-known fondness for dress didthe rest. With your permission, Diva, I intend to draw exactly whatconclusions I please on every occasion, including this one. "

"Ho! That's how you got the idea then, " said Diva. "I knew you hadcribbed it from me. "

"Cribbed?" asked Miss Mapp, in ironical ignorance of what so vulgar andslangy an expression meant. 

"Cribbed means taking what isn't yours, " said Diva. "Even then, if youhad only acted in a straightforward manner----"

Miss Mapp, shaken as with palsy, regretted that she had let slip, out ofpure childlike joy, in irony, the manner in which she had obtained thepoppy-notion, but in a quarrel regrets are useless, and she went onagain. 

"And would you very kindly explain how or when I have acted in a mannerthat was not straightforward, " she asked with laborious politeness. "Ordo I understand that a monopoly of cutting up chintz curtains forpersonal adornment has been bestowed on you by Act of Parliament?"

"You knew I was meaning to make a frock with chintz roses on it, " saidDiva. "You stole my idea. Worked night and day to be first. Just likeyou. Mean behaviour. "

"It was meaner to give that frock to Janet, " said Miss Mapp. 

"You can give yours to Withers, " snapped Diva. 

"Much obliged, Mrs. Plaistow, " said Miss Mapp. 

 * * * * *

Diva had been watching Janet's retreating figure, and feeling thatthough revenge was sweet, revenge was also strangely expensive, for shehad sacrificed one of the most strikingly successful frocks she had evermade on that smoking altar. Now her revenge was gratified, and deeplyshe regretted the frock. Miss Mapp's heart was similarly wrung bytorture: revenge too had been hers (general revenge on Diva forexisting), but this dreadful counter-stroke had made it quite impossiblefor her to enjoy the use of this frock any more, for she could not habitherself like a housemaid. Each, in fact, had, as matters at presentstood, completely wrecked the other, like two express trains meeting intop-speed collision, and, since the quarrel had clearly risen to itsutmost height, there was no farther joy of battle to be anticipated, butonly the melancholy task of counting the corpses. So they paused, breathing very quickly and trembling, while both sought for some wayout. Besides Miss Mapp had a bridge-party this afternoon, and if theyparted now in this extreme state of tension, Diva might conceivably notcome, thereby robbing herself of her bridge and spoiling her hostess'stable. Naturally any permanent quarrel was not contemplated by either ofthem, for if quarrels were permanent in Tilling, nobody would be onspeaking terms any more with anyone else in a day or two, and (hardlyless disastrous) there could be no fresh quarrels with anybody, sinceyou could not quarrel without words. There might be songs without words, as Mendelssohn had proved, but not rows without words. By what formulacould this deadly antagonism be bridged without delay?

Diva gazed out over the marsh. She wanted desperately to regain herrosebud-frock, and she knew that Elizabeth was starving for furtherwearing of her poppies. Perhaps the wide, serene plain below inspiredher with a hatred of littleness. There would be no loss of dignity inmaking a proposal that her enemy, she felt sure, would accept: it merelyshowed a Christian spirit, and set an example to Elizabeth, to make thefirst move. Janet she did not consider. 

"If you are in a fit state to listen to reason, Elizabeth, " she began. 

Miss Mapp heaved a sigh of relief. Diva had thought of something. Sheswallowed the insult at a gulp. 

"Yes, dear, " she said. 

"Got an idea. Take away Janet's frock, and wear it myself. Then you canwear yours. Too pretty for parlour-maids. Eh?"

A heavenly brightness spread over Miss Mapp's face. 

"Oh, how wonderful of you to have thought of that, Diva, " she said. "Buthow shall we explain it all to everybody?"

Diva clung to her rights. Though clearly Christian, she was human. 

"Say I thought of tacking chintz on and told you, " she said. 

"Yes, darling, " said Elizabeth. "That's beautiful, I agree. But poorJanet!"

"I'll give her some other old thing, " said Diva. "Good sort, Janet. Wants me to win. "

"And about her having been seen wearing it?"

"Say she hasn't ever worn it. Say they're mad, " said Diva. 

Miss Mapp felt it better to tear herself away before she begandistilling all sorts of acidities that welled up in her fruitful mind. She could, for instance, easily have agreed that nothing was moreprobable than that Janet had been mistaken for her mistress. .. . 

"Au reservoir then, dear, " she said tenderly. "See you at about four?And will you wear your pretty rosebud frock?"

This was agreed to, and Diva went home to take it away from Janet. 

 * * * * *

The reconciliation of course was strictly confined to matters relatingto chintz and did not include such extraneous subjects as coal-strike orfood-hoarding, and even in the first glowing moments of restoredfriendliness, Diva began wondering whether she would have theopportunity that afternoon of testing the truth of her conjecture aboutthe cupboard in the garden-room. Cudgel her brains as she might shecould think of no other _cache_ that could contain the immense amount ofprovisions that Elizabeth had probably accumulated, and she was all onfire to get to practical grips with the problem. As far as tins ofcorned beef and tongues went, Elizabeth might possibly have buried themin her garden in the manner of a dog, but it was not likely that ahoarder would limit herself to things in tins. No: there was a cupboardsomewhere ready to burst with strong supporting foods. .. . 

Diva intentionally arrived a full quarter of an hour on the hither sideof punctuality, and was taken by Withers out into the garden-room, wheretea was laid, and two card-tables were in readiness. She was, of course, the first of the guests, and the moment Withers withdrew to tell hermistress that she had come, Diva stealthily glided to the cupboard, fromin front of which the bridge-table had been removed, feeling the shrilljoy of some romantic treasure hunter. She found the catch, she pressedit, she pulled open the door and the whole of the damning profusion ofprovisions burst upon her delighted eyes. Shelf after shelf was crowdedwith eatables; there were tins of corned beef and tongues (that she knewalready), there was a sack of flour, there were tubes of Bath Oliverbiscuits, bottles of bovril, the yield of a thousand condensed Swisscows, jars of prunes. .. . All these were in the front row, flush with thedoor, and who knew to what depth the cupboard extended? Even as shefeasted her eyes on this incredible store, some package on the top shelfwavered and toppled, and she had only just time to shut the door again, in order to prevent it falling out on to the floor. But thisdisplacement prevented the door from wholly closing, and push and shoveas Diva might, she could not get the catch to click home, and the onlyresult of her energy and efforts was to give rise to a muffled explosionfrom within, just precisely as if something made of cardboard had burst. That mental image was so vivid that to her fevered imagination it seemedto be real. This was followed by certain faint taps from within against"Elegant Extracts" and "Astronomy. "

Diva grew very red in the face, and said "Drat it" under her breath. Shedid not dare open the door again in order to push things back, for fearof an uncontrollable stream of "things" pouring out. Some nicelybalanced equilibrium had clearly been upset in those capacious shelves, and it was impossible to tell, without looking, how deep and howextensive the disturbance was. And in order to look, she had to open thebookcase again. .. . Luckily the pressure against the door was notsufficiently heavy to cause it to swing wide, so the best she could dowas to leave it just ajar with temporary quiescence inside. Simultaneously she heard Miss Mapp's step, and had no more than time totrundle at the utmost speed of her whirling feet across to the window, where she stood looking out, and appeared quite unconscious of herhostess's entry. 

"Diva darling, how sweet of you to come so early!" she said. "A littlecosy chat before the others arrive. "

Diva turned round, much startled. 

"Hullo!" she said. "Didn't hear you. Got Janet's frock you see. "

("What makes Diva's face so red?" thought Miss Mapp. )

"So I see, darling, " she said. "Lovely rose-garden. How well it suitsyou, dear! Did Janet mind?"

"No. Promised her a new frock at Christmas. "

"That will be nice for Janet, " said Elizabeth enthusiastically. "Shallwe pop into the garden, dear, till my guests come?"

Diva was glad to pop into the garden and get away from the immediatevicinity of the cupboard, for though she had planned and looked forwardto the exposure of Elizabeth's hoarding, she had not meant it to come, as it now probably would, in crashes of tins and bursting of bovrilbottles. Again she had intended to have opened that door quite casuallyand innocently while she was being dummy, so that everyone could see howaccidental the exposure was, and to have gone poking about the cupboardin Elizabeth's absence was a shade too professional, so to speak, forthe usual detective work of Tilling. But the fuse was set now. Sooner orlater the explosion must come. She wondered as they went out to communewith Elizabeth's sweet flowers till the other guests arrived how great atorrent would be let loose. She did not repent her exploration--far fromit--but her pleasurable anticipations were strongly diluted withsuspense. 

Miss Mapp had found such difficulty in getting eight players togetherto-day, that she had transgressed her principles and asked Mrs. Poppitas well as Isabel, and they, with Diva, the two Bartletts, and the Majorand the Captain, formed the party. The moment Mrs. Poppit appeared, Elizabeth hated her more than ever, for she put up her glasses, andbegan to give her patronizing advice about her garden, which she had notbeen allowed to see before. 

"You have quite a pretty little piece of garden, Miss Mapp, " she said, "though, to be sure, I fancied from what you said that it was moreextensive. Dear me, your roses do not seem to be doing very well. Probably they are old plants and want renewing. You must send yourgardener round--you keep a gardener?--and I will let you have a dozenvigorous young bushes. "

Miss Mapp licked her dry lips. She kept a kind of gardener: two days aweek. 

"Too good of you, " she said, "but that rose-bed is quite sacred, dearMrs. Poppit. Not all the vigorous young bushes in the world would temptme. It's my 'Friendship's Border:' some dear friend gave me each of myrose-trees. "

Mrs. Poppit transferred her gaze to the wistaria that grew over thesteps up to the garden-room. Some of the dear friends she thought mustbe centenarians. 

"Your wistaria wants pruning sadly, " she said. "Your gardener does notunderstand wistarias. That corner there was made, I may say, forfuchsias. You should get a dozen choice fuchsias. "

Miss Mapp laughed. 

"Oh, you must excuse me, " she said with a glance at Mrs. Poppit'sbrocaded silk. "I can't bear fuchsias. They always remind me ofover-dressed women. Ah, there's Mr. Bartlett. How de do, Padre. And dearEvie!"

Dear Evie appeared fascinated by Diva's dress. 

"Such beautiful rosebuds, " she murmured, "and what lovely shade ofpurple. And Elizabeth's poppies too, quite a pair of you. But surelythis morning, Diva, didn't I see your good Janet in just such anotherdress, and I thought at the time how odd it was that----"

"If you saw Janet this morning, " said Diva quite firmly, "you saw her inher print dress. "

"And here's Major Benjy, " said Miss Mapp, who had made her slip abouthis Christian name yesterday, and had been duly entreated to continueslipping. "And Captain Puffin. Well, that is nice! Shall we go into mylittle garden shed, dear Mrs. Poppit, and have our tea?"

Major Flint was still a little lame, for his golf to-day had been of thenature of gardening, and he hobbled up the steps behind the ladies, withthat little cock-sparrow sailor following him and telling the Padre howbadly and yet how successfully he himself had played. 

"Pleasantest room in Tilling, I always say, Miss Elizabeth, " said he, diverting his mind from a mere game to the fairies. 

"My dear little room, " said Miss Mapp, knowing that it was much largerthan anything in Mrs. Poppit's house. "So tiny!"

"Oh, not a bad-sized little room, " said Mrs. Poppit encouragingly. "Muchthe same proportions, on a very small scale, as the throne-room atBuckingham Palace. "

"That beautiful throne-room!" exclaimed Miss Mapp. "A cup of tea, dearMrs. Poppit? None of that naughty red-currant fool, I am afraid. And alittle chocolate-cake?"

These substantial chocolate cakes soon did their fell work of producingthe sense of surfeit, and presently Elizabeth's guests dropped offgorged from the tea-table. Diva fortunately remembered their consistencyin time, and nearly cleared a plate of jumbles instead, which thehostess had hoped would form a pleasant accompaniment to her dessert ather supper this evening, and was still crashingly engaged on them whenthe general drifting movement towards the two bridge-tables set in. Mrs. Poppit, with her glasses up, followed by Isabel, was employed in makinga tour of the room, in case, as Miss Mapp had already determined, shenever saw it again, examining the quality of the carpet, the curtains, the chair-backs with the air of a doubtful purchaser. 

"And quite a quantity of books, I see, " she announced as she cameopposite the fatal cupboard. "Look, Isabel, what a quantity of books. There is something strange about them, though; I do not believe they arereal. "

She put out her hand and pulled at the back of one of the volumes of"Elegant Extracts. " The door swung open, and from behind it came a noiseof rattling, bumping and clattering. Something soft and heavy thumped onto the floor, and a cloud of floury dust arose. A bottle of bovrilembedded itself quietly there without damage, and a tin of Bath Oliverbiscuits beat a fierce tattoo on one of corned beef. Innumerable driedapricots from the burst package flew about like shrapnel, and tapped atthe tins. A jar of prunes, breaking its fall on the flour, rolledmerrily out into the middle of the floor. 

The din was succeeded by complete silence. The Padre had said "What ho, i' fegs?" during the tumult, but his voice had been drowned by therattling of the dried apricots. The Member of the Order of the BritishEmpire stepped free of the provisions that bumped round her, andexamined them through her glasses. Diva crammed the last jumble intoher mouth and disposed of it with the utmost rapidity. The birthday ofher life had come, as Miss Rossetti said. 

"Dear Elizabeth!" she exclaimed. "What a disaster! All your littlestores in case of the coal strike. Let me help to pick them up. I do notthink anything is broken. Isn't that lucky?"

Evie hurried to the spot. 

"Such a quantity of good things, " she said rapidly under her breath. "Tinned meats and bovril and prunes, and ever so many apricots. Let mepick them all up, and with a little dusting. .. . Why, what a bigcupboard, and such a quantity of good things. "

Miss Mapp had certainly struck a streak of embarrassments. What withnaked Mr. Hopkins, and Janet's frock and this unveiling of her hoard, life seemed at the moment really to consist of nothing else than beastlysituations. How on earth that catch of the door had come undone, she hadno idea, but much as she would have liked to suspect foul play fromsomebody, she was bound to conclude that Mrs. Poppit with her pryinghands had accidentally pressed it. It was like Diva, of course, to breakthe silence with odious allusions to hoarding, and bitterly she wishedthat she had not started the topic the other day, but had been contentto lay in her stores without so pointedly affirming that she was doingnothing of the kind. But this was no time for vain laments, andrestraining a natural impulse to scratch and beat Mrs. Poppit, sheexhibited an admirable inventiveness and composure. Though she knew itwould deceive nobody, everybody had to pretend he was deceived. 

"Oh, my poor little Christmas presents for your needy parishioners, Padre, " she said. "You've seen them before you were meant to, and youmust forget all about them. And so little harm done, just an apricot ortwo. Withers will pick them all up, so let us get to our bridge. "

Withers entered the room at this moment to clear away tea, and Miss Mappexplained it all over again. 

"All our little Christmas presents have come tumbling out, Withers, " shesaid. "Will you put as many as you can back in the cupboard and take therest indoors? Don't tread on the apricots. "

It was difficult to avoid doing this, as the apricots were everywhere, and their colour on the brown carpet was wonderfully protective. MissMapp herself had already stepped on two, and their adhesive stickinesswas hard to get rid of. In fact, for the next few minutes thecoal-shovel was in strong request for their removal from the soles ofshoes, and the fender was littered with their squashed remains. .. . Theparty generally was distinctly thoughtful as it sorted itself out intotwo tables, for every single member of it was trying to assimilate theamazing proposition that Miss Mapp had, half-way through September, loaded her cupboard with Christmas presents on a scale that staggeredbelief. The feat required thought: it required a faith so childlike asto verge on the imbecile. Conversation during deals had an awkwardtendency towards discussion of the coal strike. As often as it driftedthere the subject was changed very abruptly, just as if there was someoccult reason for not speaking of so natural a topic. It concernedeverybody, but it was rightly felt to concern Miss Mapp the most. .. . 

CHAPTER V

It was the Major's turn to entertain his friend, and by half-past nine, on a certain squally October evening, he and Puffin were seated by thefire in the diary-room, while the rain volleyed at the windows andoccasional puffs of stinging smoke were driven down the chimney by thegale that squealed and buffeted round the house. Puffin, by way ofkeeping up the comedy of Roman roads, had brought a map of the districtacross from his house, but the more essential part of his equipment forthis studious evening was a bottle of whisky. Originally the host hadprovided whisky for himself and his guest at these pleasant chats, butthere were undeniable objections to this plan, because the guest alwaysproved unusually thirsty, which tempted his host to keep pace with him, while if they both drank at their own expense, the causes of economy andabstemiousness had a better chance. Also, while the Major took hisdrinks short and strong in a small tumbler, Puffin enriched his withlemons and sugar in a large one, so that nobody could really tell ifequality as well as fraternity was realized. But if each brought his ownbottle. .. . 

It had been a trying day, and the Major was very lame. A drenching stormhad come up during their golf, while they were far from the club-house, and Puffin, being three up, had very naturally refused to accede to hisopponent's suggestion to call the match off. He was perfectly willing tobe paid his half-crown and go home, but Major Flint, remembering thatPuffin's game usually went to pieces if it rained, had rejected thisproposal with the scorn that it deserved. There had been otherdisagreeable incidents as well. His driver, slippery from rain, hadflown out of the Major's hands on the twelfth tee, and had "shot like astreamer of the northern morn, " and landed in a pool of brackish waterleft by an unusually high tide. The ball had gone into another poolnearer the tee. The ground was greasy with moisture, and three holesfurther on Puffin had fallen flat on his face instead of lashing hisfifth shot home on to the green, as he had intended. They had given eachother stimies, and each had holed his opponent's ball by mistake; theyhad wrangled over the correct procedure if you lay in a rabbit-scrape oron the tram lines; the Major had lost a new ball; there was a mushroomon one of the greens between Puffin's ball and the hole. .. . All theseuntoward incidents had come crowding in together, and from the Major'spoint of view, the worst of them all had been the collective incidentthat Puffin, so far from being put off by the rain, had, in spite ofmushroom and falling down, played with a steadiness of which he wasusually quite incapable. Consequently Major Flint was lame and his woundtroubled him, while Puffin, in spite of his obvious reasons forcomplacency, was growing irritated with his companion's ill-temper, andwas half blinded by wood-smoke. 

He wiped his streaming eyes. 

"You should get your chimney swept, " he observed. 

Major Flint had put his handkerchief over his face to keep thewood-smoke out of his eyes. He blew it off with a loud, indignant puff. 

"Oh! Ah! Indeed!" he said. 

Puffin was rather taken aback by the violence of these interjections;they dripped with angry sarcasm. 

"Oh, well! No offence, " he said. 

"A man, " said the Major impersonally, "makes an offensive remark, andsays 'No offence. ' If your own fireside suits you better than mine, Captain Puffin, all I can say is that you're at liberty to enjoy it!"

This was all rather irregular: they had indulged in a good stiff breezethis afternoon, and it was too early to ruffle the calm again. Puffinplucked and proffered an olive-branch. 

"There's your handkerchief, " he said, picking it up. "Now let's have oneof our comfortable talks. Hot glass of grog and a chat over the fire:that's the best thing after such a wetting as we got this afternoon. I'll take a slice of lemon, if you'll be so good as to give it me, and alump of sugar. "

The Major got up and limped to his cupboard. It struck him precisely atthat moment that Puffin scored considerably over lemons and sugar, because he was supplied with them gratis every other night; whereas hehimself, when Puffin's guest, took nothing off his host but hot water. He determined to ask for some biscuits, anyhow, to-morrow. .. . 

"I hardly know whether there's a lemon left, " he grumbled. "I must layin a store of lemons. As for sugar----"

Puffin chose to disregard this suggestion. 

"Amusing incident the other day, " he said brightly, "when Miss Mapp'scupboard door flew open. The old lady didn't like it. Don't suppose thepoor of the parish will see much of that corned beef. "

The Major became dignified. 

"Pardon me, " he said. "When an esteemed friend like Miss Elizabeth tellsme that certain provisions are destined for the poor of the parish, Itake it that her statement is correct. I expect others of my friends, while they are in my presence, to do the same. I have the honour to giveyou a lemon, Captain Puffin, and a slice of sugar. I should say a lumpof sugar. Pray make yourself comfortable. "

This dignified and lofty mood was often one of the after-effects of anunsuccessful game of golf. It generally yielded quite quickly to alittle stimulant. Puffin filled his glass from the bottle and thekettle, while his friend put his handkerchief again over his face. 

"Well, I shall just have my grog before I turn in, " he observed, according to custom. "Aren't you going to join me, Major?"

"Presently, sir, " said the Major. 

Puffin knocked out the consumed cinders in his pipe against the edge ofthe fender. Major Flint apparently was waiting for this, for he withdrewhis handkerchief and closely watched the process. A minute piece of ashfell from Puffin's pipe on to the hearthrug, and he jumped to his feetand removed it very carefully with the shovel. 

"I have your permission, I hope?" he said witheringly. 

"Certainly, certainly, " said Puffin. "Now get your glass, Major. You'llfeel better in a minute or two. "

Major Flint would have liked to have kept up this magnificent attitude, but the smell of Puffin's steaming glass beat dignity down, and afterglaring at him, he limped back to the cupboard for his whisky bottle. Hegave a lamentable cry when he beheld it. 

"But I got that bottle in only the day before yesterday, " he shouted, "and there's hardly a drink left in it. "

"Well, you did yourself pretty well last night, " said Puffin. "Thosesmall glasses of yours, if frequently filled up, empty a bottle quickerthan you seem to realize. "

Motives of policy prevented the Major from receiving this with theresentment that was proper to it, and his face cleared. He would getquits over these incessant lemons and lumps of sugar. 

"Well, you'll have to let me borrow from you to-night, " he saidgenially, as he poured the rest of the contents of his bottle into theglass. "Ah, that's more the ticket! A glass of whisky a day keeps thedoctor away. "

The prospect of sponging on Puffin was most exhilarating, and he put hislarge slippered feet on to the fender. 

"Yes, indeed, that was a highly amusing incident about Miss Mapp'scupboard, " he said. "And wasn't Mrs. Plaistow down on her like a knifeabout it? Our fair friends, you know, have a pretty sharp eye for eachother's little failings. They've no sooner finished one squabble thanthey begin another, the pert little fairies. They can't sit and enjoythemselves like two old cronies I could tell you of, and feel at peacewith all the world. "

He finished his glass at a gulp, and seemed much surprised to find itempty. 

"I'll be borrowing a drop from you, old friend, " he said. 

"Help yourself, Major, " said Puffin, with a keen eye as to how much hetook. 

"Very obliging of you. I feel as if I caught a bit of a chill thisafternoon. My wound. "

"Be careful not to inflame it, " said Puffin. 

"Thank ye for the warning. It's this beastly climate that touches it up. A winter in England adds years on to a man's life unless he takes careof himself. Take care of yourself, old boy. Have some more sugar. "

Before long the Major's hand was moving slowly and instinctively towardsPuffin's whisky bottle again. 

"I reckon that big glass of yours, Puffin, " he said, "holds betweenthree and a half times to four times what my little tumbler holds. Between three and a half and four I should reckon. I may be wrong. "

"Reckoning the water in, I daresay you're not far out, Major, " said he. "And according to my estimate you mix your drink somewhere about threeand a half times to four stronger than I mix mine. "

"Oh, come, come!" said the Major. 

"Three and a half to four times, _I_ should say, " repeated Puffin. "Youwon't find I'm far out. "

He replenished his big tumbler, and instead of putting the bottle backon the table, absently deposited it on the floor on the far side of hischair. This second tumbler usually marked the most convivial period ofthe evening, for the first would have healed whatever unhappy discordshad marred the harmony of the day, and, those being disposed of, theyvery contentedly talked through their hats about past prowesses, andtook a rosy view of the youth and energy which still beat in theirvigorous pulses. They would begin, perhaps, by extolling each other:Puffin, when informed that his friend would be fifty-four next birthday, flatly refused (without offence) to believe it, and, indeed, he wasquite right in so doing, because the Major was in reality fifty-six. Inturn, Major Flint would say that his friend had the figure of a boy oftwenty, which caused Puffin presently to feel a little cramped and towander negligently in front of the big looking-glass between thewindows, and find this compliment much easier to swallow than theMajor's age. For the next half-hour they would chiefly talk aboutthemselves in a pleasant glow of self-satisfaction. Major Flint, lookingat the various implements and trophies that adorned the room, wouldsuggest putting a sporting challenge in the _Times_. 

"'Pon my word, Puffin, " he would say, "I've half a mind to do it. Retired Major of His Majesty's Forces--the King, God bless him!" (and hetook a substantial sip); "'Retired Major, aged fifty-four, challengesany gentleman of fifty years or over. '"

"Forty, " said Puffin sycophantically, as he thought over what he wouldsay about himself when the old man had finished. 

"Well, we'll halve it, we'll say forty-five, to please you, Puffin--let's see, where had I got to?--'Retired Major challenges anygentleman of forty-five years or over to--to a shooting match in themorning, followed by half a dozen rounds with four-ounce gloves, a gameof golf, eighteen holes, in the afternoon, and a billiard match of twohundred up after tea. ' Ha! ha! I shouldn't feel much anxiety as to theresult. "

"My confounded leg!" said Puffin. "But I know a retired captain from HisMajesty's merchant service--the King, God bless him!--aged fifty----"

"Ho! ho! Fifty, indeed!" said the Major, thinking to himself that adried-up little man like Puffin might be as old as an Egyptian mummy. Who can tell the age of a kipper?. .. 

"Not a day less, Major. 'Retired Captain, aged fifty, who'll take on allcomers of forty-two and over, at a steeplechase, round of golf, billiardmatch, hopping match, gymnastic competition, swinging Indian clubs----'No objection, gentlemen? Then carried _nem. Con. _"

This gaseous mood, athletic, amatory or otherwise (the amatory ones werethe worst), usually faded slowly, like the light from the setting sun oran exhausted coal in the grate, about the end of Puffin's secondtumbler, and the gentlemen after that were usually somnolent, butoccasionally laid the foundation for some disagreement next day, whichthey were too sleepy to go into now. Major Flint by this time would havehad some five small glasses of whisky (equivalent, as he bitterlyobserved, to one in pre-war days), and as he measured his next withextreme care and a slightly jerky movement, would announce it as beinghis night-cap, though you would have thought he had plenty of night-capson already. Puffin correspondingly took a thimbleful more (the thimbleapparently belonging to some housewife of Anak), and after anotherhalf-hour of sudden single snores and startings awake again, of pipesfrequently lit and immediately going out, the guest, still perfectlycapable of coherent speech and voluntary motion in the requireddirection, would stumble across the dark cobbles to his house, and doorswould be very carefully closed for fear of attracting the attention ofthe lady who at this period of the evening was usually known as "OldMappy. " The two were perfectly well aware of the sympathetic interestthat Old Mappy took in all that concerned them, and that she had an eyeon their evening séances was evidenced by the frequency with which thecorner of her blind in the window of the garden-room was raised between, say, half-past nine and eleven at night. They had often watched withgiggles the pencil of light that escaped, obscured at the lower end bythe outline of Old Mappy's head, and occasionally drank to the "GuardianAngel. " Guardian Angel, in answer to direct inquiries, had been told byMajor Benjy during the last month that he worked at his diaries on threenights in the week and went to bed early on the others, to the vastimprovement of his mental grasp. 

"And on Sunday night, dear Major Benjy?" asked Old Mappy in thecharacter of Guardian Angel. 

"I don't think you knew my beloved, my revered mother, Miss Elizabeth, "said Major Benjy. "I spend Sunday evening as---- Well, well. "

The very next Sunday evening Guardian Angel had heard the sound ofsinging. She could not catch the words, and only fragments of the tune, which reminded her of "The roseate morn hath passed away. " Brimming withemotion, she sang it softly to herself as she undressed, and blamedherself very much for ever having thought that dear Major Benjy---- Shepeeped out of her window when she had extinguished her light, butfortunately the singing had ceased. 

 * * * * *

To-night, however, the epoch of Puffin's second big tumbler was notaccompanied by harmonious developments. Major Benjy was determined tomake the most of this unique opportunity of drinking his friend'swhisky, and whether Puffin put the bottle on the further side of him, orunder his chair, or under the table, he came padding round in hisslippers and standing near the ambush while he tried to interest hisfriend in tales of love or tiger-shooting so as to distract hisattention. When he mistakenly thought he had done so, he hastilyrefilled his glass, taking unusually stiff doses for fear of not gettinganother opportunity, and altogether omitting to ask Puffin's leave forthese maraudings. When this had happened four or five times, Puffin, acting on the instinct of the polar bear who eats her babies for fearthat anybody else should get them, surreptitiously poured the rest ofhis bottle into his glass, and filled it up to the top with hot water, making a mixture of extraordinary power. 

Soon after this Major Flint came rambling round the table again. He wasnot sure whether Puffin had put the bottle by his chair or behind thecoal-scuttle, and was quite ignorant of the fact that wherever it was, it was empty. Amorous reminiscences to-night had been the accompanimentto Puffin's second tumbler. 

"Devilish fine woman she was, " he said, "and that was the last thatBenjamin Flint ever saw of her. She went up to the hills nextmorning----"

"But the last you saw of her just now was on the deck of the P. And O. At Bombay, " objected Puffin. "Or did she go up to the hills on the deckof the P. And O. ? Wonderful line!"

"No, sir, " said Benjamin Flint, "that was Helen, _la belle Hélène_. Itwas _la belle Hélène_ whom I saw off at the Apollo Bunder. I don't knowif I told you--By Gad, I've kicked the bottle over. No idea you'd put itthere. Hope the cork's in. "

"No harm if it isn't, " said Puffin, beginning on his third most fieryglass. The strength of it rather astonished him. 

"You don't mean to say it's empty?" asked Major Flint. "Why just nowthere was close on a quarter of a bottle left. "

"As much as that?" asked Puffin. "Glad to hear it. "

"Not a drop less. You don't mean to say--Well, if you can drink that andcan say hippopotamus afterwards, I should put that among yourchallenges, to men of four hundred and two: I should say forty-two. It'sa fine thing to have a strong head, though if I drank what you've got inyour glass, I should be tipsy, sir. "

Puffin laughed in his irritating falsetto manner. 

"Good thing that it's in my glass then, and not your glass, " he said. "And lemme tell you, Major, in case you don't know it, that when I'vedrunk every drop of this and sucked the lemon, you'll have had far moreout of my bottle this evening than I have. My usual twice and--and myusual night-cap, as you say, is what's my ration, and I've had no morethan my ration. Eight Bells. "

"And a pretty good ration you've got there, " said the baffled Major. "Without your usual twice. "

Puffin was beginning to be aware of that as he swallowed the fierymixture, but nothing in the world would now have prevented his drinkingevery single drop of it. It was clear to him, among so much that was dimowing to the wood-smoke, that the Major would miss a good many drivesto-morrow morning. 

"And whose whisky is it?" he said, gulping down the fiery stuff. 

"I know whose it's going to be, " said the other. 

"And I know whose it is now, " retorted Puffin, "and I know whose whiskyit is that's filled you up ti' as a drum. Tight as a drum, " he repeatedvery carefully. 

Major Flint was conscious of an unusual activity of brain, and, when hespoke, of a sort of congestion and entanglement of words. It pleased himto think that he had drunk so much of somebody's else whisky, but hefelt that he ought to be angry. 

"That's a very unmentionable sor' of thing to say, " he remarked. "An' ifit wasn't for the sacred claims of hospitality, I'd make you explainjust what you mean by that, and make you eat your words. Pologize, infact. "

Puffin finished his glass at a gulp, and rose to his feet. 

"Pologies be blowed, " he said. "Hittopopamus!"

"And were you addressing that to me?" asked Major Flint with deadlycalm. 

"Of course, I was. Hippot---- same animal as before. Pleasant old boy. And as for the lemon you lent me, well, I don't want it any more. Have asuck at it, ole fellow! I don't want it any more. "

The Major turned purple in the face, made a course for the door like aknight's move at chess (a long step in one direction and a short one atright angles to the first) and opened it. The door thus served as anaperture from the room and a support to himself. He spoke no word of anysort or kind: his silence spoke for him in a far more dignified mannerthan he could have managed for himself. 

Captain Puffin stood for a moment wreathed in smiles, and fingering theslice of lemon, which he had meant playfully to throw at his friend. Buthis smile faded, and by some sort of telepathic perception he realizedhow much more decorous it was to say (or, better, to indicate)good-night in a dignified manner than to throw lemons about. He walkedin dots and dashes like a Morse code out of the room, bestowing a navalsalute on the Major as he passed. The latter returned it with a militarysalute and a suppressed hiccup. Not a word passed. 

Then Captain Puffin found his hat and coat without much difficulty, andmarched out of the house, slamming the door behind him with a bang thatechoed down the street and made Miss Mapp dream about a thunderstorm. Helet himself into his own house, and bent down before his expired fire, which he tried to blow into life again. This was unsuccessful, and hebreathed in a quantity of wood-ash. 

He sat down by his table and began to think things out. He told himselfthat he was not drunk at all, but that he had taken an unusual quantityof whisky, which seemed to produce much the same effect as intoxication. Allowing for that, he was conscious that he was extremely angry aboutsomething, and had a firm idea that the Major was very angry too. 

"But woz'it all been about?" he vainly asked himself. "Woz'it all beenabout?"

He was roused from his puzzling over this unanswerable conundrum by theclink of the flap in his letter-box. Either this was the first post inthe morning, in which case it was much later than he thought, andwonderfully dark still, or it was the last post at night, in which caseit was much earlier than he thought. But, whichever it was, a letter hadbeen slipped into his box, and he brought it in. The gum on the envelopewas still wet, which saved trouble in opening it. Inside was a halfsheet containing but a few words. This curt epistle ran as follows:

 "SIR, "My seconds will wait on you in the course of to-morrow morning. 

 "Your faithful obedient servant, "BENJAMIN FLINT. 

 Captain Puffin. "

Puffin felt as calm as a tropic night, and as courageous as a captain. Somewhere below his courage and his calm was an appalling sense ofmisgiving. That he successfully stifled. 

"Very proper, " he said aloud. "Qui' proper. Insults. Blood. Secondswon't have to wait a second. Better get a good sleep. "

He went up to his room, fell on to his bed and instantly began to snore. 

 * * * * *

It was still dark when he awoke, but the square of his window wasvisible against the blackness, and he concluded that though it was notmorning yet, it was getting on for morning, which seemed a pity. As heturned over on to his side his hand came in contact with his coat, instead of a sheet, and he became aware that he had all his clothes on. Then, as with a crash of cymbals and the beating of a drum in his brain, the events of the evening before leaped into reality and significance. In a few hours now arrangements would have been made for a deadlyencounter. His anger was gone, his whisky was gone, and in particularhis courage was gone. He expressed all this compendiously by moaning"Oh, God!"

He struggled to a sitting position, and lit a match at which he kindledhis candle. He looked for his watch beside it, but it was not there. What could have happened--then he remembered that it was in itsaccustomed place in his waistcoat pocket. A consultation of it followedby holding it to his ear only revealed the fact that it had stopped athalf-past five. With the lucidity that was growing brighter in hisbrain, he concluded that this stoppage was due to the fact that he hadnot wound it up. .. . It was after half-past five then, but how much lateronly the Lords of Time knew--Time which bordered so closely on Eternity. 

He felt that he had no use whatever for Eternity but that he must notwaste Time. Just now, that was far more precious. 

 * * * * *

From somewhere in the Cosmic Consciousness there came to him a thought, namely, that the first train to London started at half-past six in themorning. It was a slow train, but it got there, and in any case it wentaway from Tilling. He did not trouble to consider how that thought cameto him: the important point was that it had come. Coupled with that wasthe knowledge that it was now an undiscoverable number of minutes afterhalf-past five. 

There was a Gladstone bag under his bed. He had brought it back from theClub-house only yesterday, after that game of golf which had been sofull of disturbances and wet stockings, but which now wore theshimmering security of peaceful, tranquil days long past. How little, sohe thought to himself, as he began swiftly storing shirts, ties, collarsand other useful things into his bag, had he appreciated the sweetamenities of life, its pleasant conversations and companionships, itstopped drives, and mushrooms and incalculable incidents. Now they wore aglamour and a preciousness that was bound up with life itself. Hestarved for more of them, not knowing while they were his how sweet theywere. 

The house was not yet astir, when ten minutes later he came downstairswith his bag. He left on his sitting-room table, where it would catchthe eye of his housemaid, a sheet of paper on which he wrote "Calledaway" (he shuddered as he traced the words). "Forward no letters. Willcommunicate. .. . " (Somehow the telegraphic form seemed best to suit theurgency of the situation. ) Then very quietly he let himself out of hishouse. 

He could not help casting an apprehensive glance at the windows of hisquondam friend and prospective murderer. To his horror he observed thatthere was a light behind the blind of the Major's bedroom, and picturedhim writing to his seconds--he wondered who the "seconds" were going tobe--or polishing up his pistols. All the rumours and hints of theMajor's duels and affairs of honour, which he had rather scorned before, not wholly believing them, poured like a red torrent into his mind, andhe found that now he believed them with a passionate sincerity. Why hadhe ever attempted (and with such small success) to call this fire-eatera hippopotamus?

The gale of the night before had abated, and thick chilly rain wasfalling from a sullen sky as he tiptoed down the hill. Once round thecorner and out of sight of the duellist's house, he broke into a limpingrun, which was accelerated by the sound of an engine-whistle from thestation. It was mental suspense of the most agonizing kind not to knowhow long it was after his watch had stopped that he had awoke, and thesound of that whistle, followed by several short puffs of steam, mightprove to be the six-thirty bearing away to London, on business orpleasure, its secure and careless pilgrims. Splashing through puddles, lopsidedly weighted by his bag, with his mackintosh flapping against hislegs, he gained the sanctuary of the waiting-room and booking-office, which was lighted by a dim expiring lamp, and scrutinized the face ofthe murky clock. .. . 

With a sob of relief he saw that he was in time. He was, indeed, inexceptionally good time, for he had a quarter of an hour to wait. Ananxious internal debate followed as to whether or not he should take areturn ticket. Optimism, that is to say, the hope that he would returnto Tilling in peace and safety before the six months for which theticket was available inclined him to the larger expense, but in thesedisquieting circumstances, it was difficult to be optimistic and hepurchased a first-class single, for on such a morning, and on such ajourney, he must get what comfort he could from looking-glasses, paddedseats and coloured photographs of places of interest on the line. Heformed no vision at all of the future: that was a dark well into whichit was dangerous to peer. There was no bright speck in its unplumbabledepths: unless Major Flint died suddenly without revealing thechallenge he had sent last night, and the promptitude with which itsrecipient had disappeared rather than face his pistol, he could notframe any grouping of events which would make it possible for him tocome back to Tilling again, for he would either have to fight (and thishe was quite determined not to do) or be pointed at by the finger ofscorn as the man who had refused to do so, and this was nearly asunthinkable as the other. Bitterly he blamed himself for having made afriend (and worse than that, an enemy) of one so obsolete andold-fashioned as to bring duelling into modern life. .. . As far as hecould be glad of anything he was glad that he had taken a single, not areturn ticket. 

He turned his eyes away from the blackness of the future and let hismind dwell on the hardly less murky past. Then, throwing up his hands, he buried his face in them with a hollow groan. By some miserableforgetfulness he had left the challenge on his chimney-piece, where hishousemaid would undoubtedly find and read it. That would explain hisabsence far better than the telegraphic instructions he had left on histable. There was no time to go back for it now, even if he could havefaced the risk of being seen by the Major, and in an hour or two thewhole story, via Withers, Janet, etc. , would be all over Tilling. 

It was no use then thinking of the future nor of the past, and in orderto anchor himself to the world at all and preserve his sanity he had toconfine himself to the present. The minutes, long though each tarried, were slipping away and provided his train was punctual, the passage offive more of these laggards would see him safe. The news-boy took downthe shutters of his stall, a porter quenched the expiring lamp, andPuffin began to listen for the rumble of the approaching train. Itstayed three minutes here: if up to time it would be in before a couplemore minutes had passed. 

There came from the station-yard outside the sound of heavy footstepsrunning. Some early traveller like himself was afraid of missing thetrain. The door burst open, and, streaming with rain and panting forbreath, Major Flint stood at the entry. Puffin looked wildly round tosee whether he could escape, still perhaps unobserved, on to theplatform, but it was too late, for their eyes met. 

In that instant of abject terror, two things struck Puffin. One was thatthe Major looked at the open door behind him as if meditating retreat, the second that he carried a Gladstone bag. Simultaneously Major Flintspoke, if indeed that reverberating thunder of scornful indignation canbe called speech. 

"Ha! I guessed right then, " he roared. "I guessed, sir, that you mightbe meditating flight, and I--in fact, I came down to see whether youwere running away. I was right. You are a coward, Captain Puffin! Butrelieve your mind, sir. Major Flint will not demean himself to fightwith a coward. "

Puffin gave one long sigh of relief, and then, standing in front of hisown Gladstone bag, in order to conceal it, burst into a cackling laugh. 

"Indeed!" he said. "And why, Major, was it necessary for you to pack aGladstone bag in order to stop me from running away? I'll tell you whathas happened. You were running away, and you know it. I guessed youwould. I came to stop you, you, you quaking runaway. Your wound troubledyou, hey? Didn't want another, hey?"

There was an awful pause, broken by the entry from behind the Major ofthe outside porter, panting under the weight of a large portmanteau. 

"You had to take your portmanteau, too, " observed Puffin witheringly, "in order to stop me. That's a curious way of stopping me. You're acoward, sir! But go home. You're safe enough. This will be a fine storyfor tea-parties. "

Puffin turned from him in scorn, still concealing his own bag. Unfortunately the flap of his coat caught it, precariously perched onthe bench, and it bumped to the ground. 

"What's that?" said Major Flint. 

They stared at each other for a moment and then simultaneously burstinto peals of laughter. The train rumbled slowly into the station, butneither took the least notice of it, and only shook their heads andbroke out again when the station-master urged them to take their seats. The only thing that had power to restore Captain Puffin to gravity wasthe difficulty of getting the money for his ticket refunded, while thedeparture of the train with his portmanteau in it did the same for theMajor. 

 * * * * *

The events of that night and morning, as may easily be imagined, soonsupplied Tilling with one of the most remarkable conundrums that hadever been forced upon its notice. Puffin's housemaid, during his absenceat the station, found and read not only the notice intended for hereyes, but the challenge which he had left on the chimney-piece. Sheconceived it to be her duty to take it down to Mrs. Gashly, his cook, and while they were putting the bloodiest construction on theseinscriptions, their conference was interrupted by the return of CaptainPuffin in the highest spirits, who, after a vain search for thechallenge, was quite content, as its purport was no longer fraught withdanger and death, to suppose that he had torn it up. Mrs. Gashly, therefore, after preparing breakfast at this unusually early hour, wentacross to the back door of the Major's house, with the challenge in herhand, to borrow a nutmeg grater, and gleaned the information that Mrs. Dominic's employer (for master he could not be called) had gone off in agreat hurry to the station early that morning with a Gladstone bag and aportmanteau, the latter of which had been seen no more, though the Majorhad returned. So Mrs. Gashly produced the challenge, and having watchedMiss Mapp off to the High Street at half-past ten, Dominic and Gashlywent together to her house, to see if Withers could supply anything ofimportance, or, if not, a nutmeg grater. They were forced to be contentwith the grater, but pored over the challenge with Withers, and shehaving an errand to Diva's house, told Janet, who without furtherceremony bounded upstairs to tell her mistress. Hardly had Diva heard, than she plunged into the High Street, and, with suitable additions, told Miss Mapp, Evie, Irene and the Padre under promise in each case, ofthe strictest secrecy. Ten minutes later Irene had asked the defencelessMr. Hopkins, who was being Adam again, what he knew about it, and Evie, with her mouse-like gait that looked so rapid and was so deliberate, hadthe mortification of seeing Miss Mapp outdistance her and be admittedinto the Poppits' house, just as she came in view of the front-door. Sherightly conjectured that, after the affair of the store-cupboard in thegarden-room, there could be nothing of lesser importance than "the duel"which could take that lady through those abhorred portals. Finally, atten minutes past eleven, Major Flint and Captain Puffin were seen by oneor two fortunate people (the morning having cleared up) walking togetherto the tram, and, without exception, everybody knew that they were ontheir way to fight their duel in some remote hollow of the sand-dunes. 

Miss Mapp had gone straight home from her visit to the Poppits justabout eleven, and stationed herself in the window where she could keepan eye on the houses of the duellists. In her anxiety to outstrip Evieand be the first to tell the Poppits, she had not waited to hear thatthey had both come back and knew only of the challenge and that they hadgone to the station. She had already formed a glorious idea of her ownas to what the history of the duel (past or future) was, and intoxicatedwith emotion had retired from the wordy fray to think about it, and, asalready mentioned, to keep an eye on the two houses just below. Thenthere appeared in sight the Padre, walking swiftly up the hill, and shehad barely time under cover of the curtain to regain the table where hersweet chrysanthemums were pining for water when Withers announced him. He wore a furrowed brow and quite forgot to speak either Scotch orElizabethan English. A few rapid words made it clear that they both hadheard the main outlines. 

"A terrible situation, " said the Padre. "Duelling is directcontravention of all Christian principles, and, I believe, of the civillaw. The discharge of a pistol, in unskilful hands, may lead todeplorable results. And Major Flint, so one has heard, is an experiencedduellist. .. . That, of course, makes it even more dangerous. "

It was at this identical moment that Major Flint came out of his houseand qui-hied cheerily to Puffin. Miss Mapp and the Padre, deep in thesebloody possibilities, neither saw nor heard them. They passed togetherdown the road and into the High Street, unconscious that their very lookand action was being more commented on than the Epistle to the Hebrews. Inside the garden-room Miss Mapp sighed, and bent her eyes on herchrysanthemums. 

"Quite terrible!" she said. "And in our peaceful, tranquil Tilling!"

"Perhaps the duel has already taken place, and--and they've missed, "said the Padre. "They were both seen to return to their houses earlythis morning. "

"By whom?" asked Miss Mapp jealously. She had not heard that. 

"By Hopkins, " said he. "Hopkins saw them both return. "

"I shouldn't trust that man too much, " said Miss Mapp. "Hopkins may notbe telling the truth. I have no great opinion of his moral standard. "

"Why is that?"

This was no time to discuss the nudity of Hopkins and Miss Mapp put thequestion aside. 

"That does not matter now, dear Padre, " she said. "I only wish I thoughtthe duel had taken place without accident. But Major Benjy's--I meanMajor Flint's--portmanteau has not come back to his house. Of that I'msure. What if they have sent it away to some place where they areunknown, full of pistols and things?"

"Possible--terribly possible, " said the Padre. "I wish I could see myduty clear. I should not hesitate to--well, to do the best I could toinduce them to abandon this murderous project. And what do you imaginewas the root of the quarrel?"

"I couldn't say, I'm sure, " said Miss Mapp. She bent her head over thechrysanthemums. 

"Your distracting sex, " said he with a moment's gallantry, "is usuallythe cause of quarrel. I've noticed that they both seemed to admire MissIrene very much. "

Miss Mapp raised her head and spoke with great animation. 

"Dear, quaint Irene, I'm sure, has nothing whatever to do with it, " shesaid with perfect truth. "Nothing whatever!"

There was no mistaking the sincerity of this, and the Padre, Tillingiteto the marrow, instantly concluded that Miss Mapp knew what (or who) wasthe cause of all this unique disturbance. And as she bent her head againover the chrysanthemums, and quite distinctly grew brick-red in theface, he felt that delicacy prevented his inquiring any further. 

"What are you going to do, dear Padre?" she asked in a low voice, choking with emotion. "Whatever you decide will be wise and Christian. Oh, these violent men! Such babies, too!"

The Padre was bursting with curiosity, but since his delicacy forbadehim to ask any of the questions which effervesced like sherbet round histongue, he propounded another plan. 

"I think my duty is to go straight to the Major, " he said, "who seems tobe the principal in the affair, and tell him that I know all--and guessthe rest, " he added. 

"Nothing that I have said, " declared Miss Mapp in great confusion, "musthave anything to do with your guesses. Promise me that, Padre. "

This intimate and fruitful conversation was interrupted by the sound oftwo pairs of steps just outside, and before Withers had had time to say"Mrs. Plaistow, " Diva burst in. 

"They have both taken the 11. 20 tram, " she said, and sank into thenearest chair. 

"Together?" asked Miss Mapp, feeling a sudden chill of disappointmentat the thought of a duel with pistols trailing off into one with golfclubs. 

"Yes, but that's a blind, " panted Diva. "They were talking and laughingtogether. Sheer blind! Duel among the sand-dunes!"

"Padre, it is your duty to stop it, " said Miss Mapp faintly. 

"But if the pistols are in a portmanteau----" he began. 

"What portmanteau?" screamed Diva, who hadn't heard about that. 

"Darling, I'll tell you presently, " said Miss Mapp. "That was only aguess of mine, Padre. But there's no time to lose. "

"But there's no tram to catch, " said the Padre. "It has gone by thistime. "

"A taxi then, Padre! Oh, lose no time!"

"Are you coming with me?" he said in a low voice. "Your presence----"

"Better not, " she said. "It might---- Better not, " she repeated. 

He skipped down the steps and was observed running down the street. 

"What about the portmanteau?" asked the greedy Diva. 

 * * * * *

It was with strong misgivings that the Padre started on his Christianerrand, and had not the sense of adventure spiced it, he would probablyhave returned to his sermon instead, which was Christian, too. To beginwith, there was the ruinous expense of taking a taxi out to thegolf-links, but by no other means could he hope to arrive in time toavert an encounter that might be fatal. It must be said to his creditthat, though this was an errand distinctly due to his position as thespiritual head of Tilling, he rejected, as soon as it occurred to him, the idea of charging the hire of the taxi to Church Expenses, and as hewhirled along the flat road across the marsh, the thing that chieflybuoyed up his drooping spirits and annealed his courage was the romanticnature of his mission. He no longer, thanks to what Miss Mapp had soclearly refrained from saying, had the slightest doubt that she, in somemanner that scarcely needed conjecture, was the cause of the duel he wasattempting to avert. For years it had been a matter of unwearied andconfidential discussion as to whether and when she would marry eitherMajor Flint or Captain Puffin, and it was superfluous to look for anyother explanation. It was true that she, in popular parlance, was"getting on, " but so, too, and at exactly the same rate, were therepresentatives of the United Services, and the sooner that two out ofthe three of them "got on" permanently, the better. No doubt some crisishad arisen, and inflamed with love. .. . He intended to confide all thisto his wife on his return. 

On his return! The unspoken words made his heart sink. What if he neverdid return? For he was about to place himself in a position of no commondanger. His plan was to drive past the club-house, and then on foot, after discharging the taxi, to strike directly into the line of tumbledsand-dunes which, remote and undisturbed and full of large convenienthollows, stretched along the coast above the flat beach. Any of thosehollows, he knew, might prove to contain the duellists in the very actof firing, and over the rim of each he had to pop his unprotected head. He (if in time) would have to separate the combatants, and who knewwhether, in their very natural chagrin at being interrupted, they mightnot turn their combined pistols on him first, and settle with eachother afterwards? One murder the more made little difference todesperate men. Other shocks, less deadly but extremely unnerving, mightawait him. He might be too late, and pop his head over the edge of oneof these craters, only to discover it full of bleeding if not mangledbodies. Or there might be only one mangled body, and the other, unmangled, would pursue him through the sand-dunes and offer him life atthe price of silence. That, he painfully reflected, would be a verydifficult decision to make. Luckily, Captain Puffin (if he proved to bethe survivor) was lame. .. . 

With drawn face and agonized prayers on his lips, he began a systematicsearch of the sand-dunes. Often his nerve nearly failed him, and hewould sink panting among the prickly bents before he dared to peer intothe hollow up the sides of which he had climbed. His ears shuddered atthe anticipation of hearing from near at hand the report of pistols, andonce a back-fire from a motor passing along the road caused him to leaphigh in the air. The sides of these dunes were steep, and his shoes gotso full of sand, that from time to time, in spite of the urgency of hiserrand, he was forced to pause in order to empty them out. He stumbledin rabbit holes, he caught his foot and once his trousers in strands ofbarbed wire, the remnant of coast defences in the Great War, he crashedamong potsherds and abandoned kettles; but with a thoroughness that didequal credit to his wind and his Christian spirit, he searched a mile ofperilous dunes from end to end, and peered into every important hollow. Two hours later, jaded and torn and streaming with perspiration, hecame, in the vicinity of the club-house, to the end of his fruitlesssearch. 

He staggered round the corner of it and came in view of the eighteenthgreen. Two figures were occupying it, and one of these was in the act ofputting. He missed. Then he saw who the figures were: it was CaptainPuffin who had just missed his putt, it was Major Flint who nowexpressed elated sympathy. 

"Bad luck, old boy, " he said. "Well, a jolly good match and we halve it. Why, there's the Padre. Been for a walk? Join us in a round thisafternoon, Padre! Blow your sermon!"

CHAPTER VI

The same delightful prospect at the end of the High Street, over themarsh, which had witnessed not so long ago the final encounter in theWars of the Roses and the subsequent armistice, was, of course, found tobe peculiarly attractive that morning to those who knew (and who didnot?) that the combatants had left by the 11. 20 steam-tram to fightamong the sand-dunes, and that the intrepid Padre had rushed after themin a taxi. The Padre's taxi had returned empty, and the driver seemed toknow nothing whatever about anything, so the only thing for everybody todo was to put off lunch and wait for the arrival of the next tram, whichoccurred at 1. 37. In consequence, all the doors in Tilling flew openlike those of cuckoo clocks at ten minutes before that hour, and thispleasant promenade was full of those who so keenly admired autumn tints. 

From here the progress of the tram across the plain was in full view;so, too, was the shed-like station across the river, which was theterminus of the line, and expectation, when the two-waggoned littletrain approached the end of its journey, was so tense that it wasalmost disagreeable. A couple of hours had elapsed since, like thefishers who sailed away into the West and were seen no more till thecorpses lay out on the shining sand, the three had left for thesand-dunes, and a couple of hours, so reasoned the Cosmic Consciousnessof Tilling, gave ample time for a duel to be fought, if the Padre wasnot in time to stop it, and for him to stop it if he was. No surgicalassistance, as far as was known, had been summoned, but the reason forthat might easily be that a surgeon's skill was no longer, alas! of anyavail for one, if not both, of the combatants. But if such was the case, it was nice to hope that the Padre had been in time to supply spiritualaid to anyone whom first-aid and probes were powerless to succour. 

The variety of _dénouements_ which the approaching tram, that had nowcut off steam, was capable of providing was positively bewildering. Theywhirled through Miss Mapp's head like the autumn leaves which sheadmired so much, and she tried in vain to catch them all, and, whencaught, to tick them off on her fingers. Each, moreover, furnisheddiverse and legitimate conclusions. For instance (taking the thumb)

 I. If nobody of the slightest importance arrived by the tram, that might be because

 (_a_) Nothing had happened, and they were all playing golf. 

 (_b_) The worst had happened, and, as the Padre had feared, the duellists had first shot him and then each other. 

 (_c_) The next worst had happened, and the Padre was arranging for the reverent removal of the corpse of

 (i) Major Benjy, or

 (ii) Captain Puffin, or those of

 (iii) Both. 

Miss Mapp let go of her thumb and lightly touched her forefinger. 

 II. The Padre might arrive alone. 

In that case anything or nothing might have happened to either or bothof the others, and the various contingencies hanging on this arrivalwere so numerous that there was not time to sort them out. 

 III. The Padre might arrive with two limping figures whom he assisted. 

Here it must not be forgotten that Captain Puffin always limped, and theMajor occasionally. Miss Mapp did not forget it. 

 IV. The Padre might arrive with a stretcher. Query--Whose?

 V. The Padre might arrive with two stretchers. 

 VI. Three stretchers might arrive from the shining sands, at the town where the women were weeping and wringing their hands. 

In that case Miss Mapp saw herself busily employed in strengthening poorEvie, who now was running about like a mouse from group to group pickingup crumbs of Cosmic Consciousness. 

Miss Mapp had got as far as sixthly, though she was aware she had notexhausted the possibilities, when the tram stopped. She furtively tookout from her pocket (she had focussed them before she put them in) theopera-glasses through which she had watched the station-yard on a daywhich had been very much less exciting than this. After one glance sheput them back again, feeling vexed and disappointed with herself, forthe _dénouement_ which they had so unerringly disclosed was one thathad not entered her mind at all. In that moment she had seen that out ofthe tram there stepped three figures and no stretcher. One figure, it istrue, limped, but in a manner so natural, that she scorned to draw anydeductions from that halting gait. They proceeded, side by side, acrossthe bridge over the river towards the town. 

It is no use denying that the Cosmic Consciousness of the ladies ofTilling was aware of a disagreeable anti-climax to so many hopes andfears. It had, of course, hoped for the best, but it had not expectedthat the best would be quite as bad as this. The best, to put itfrankly, would have been a bandaged arm, or something of that kind. There was still room for the more hardened optimist to hope thatsomething of some sort had occurred, or that something of some sort hadbeen averted, and that the whole affair was not, in the delicious newslang phrase of the Padre's, which was spreading like wildfire throughTilling, a "wash-out. " Pistols might have been innocuously dischargedfor all that was known to the contrary. But it looked bad. 

Miss Mapp was the first to recover from the blow, and took Diva's podgyhand. 

"Diva, darling, " she said, "I feel so deeply thankful. What a wonderfuland beautiful end to all our anxiety!"

There was a subconscious regret with regard to the anxiety. The anxietywas, so to speak, a dear and beloved departed. .. . And Diva did not feelso sure that the end was so beautiful and wonderful. Her grandfather, Miss Mapp had reason to know, had been a butcher, and probably someinherited indifference to slaughter lurked in her tainted blood. 

"There's the portmanteau still, " she said hopefully. "Pistols in theportmanteau. Your idea, Elizabeth. "

"Yes, dear, " said Elizabeth; "but thank God I must have been very wrongabout the portmanteau. The outside-porter told me that he brought it upfrom the station to Major Benjy's house half an hour ago. Fancy your notknowing that! I feel sure he is a truthful man, for he attends thePadre's confirmation class. If there had been pistols in it, Major Benjyand Captain Puffin would have gone away too. I am quite happy about thatnow. It went away and it has come back. That's all about theportmanteau. "

She paused a moment. 

"But what does it contain, then?" she said quickly, more as if she wasthinking aloud than talking to Diva. "Why did Major Benjy pack it andsend it to the station this morning? Where has it come back from? Whydid it go there?"

She felt that she was saying too much, and pressed her hand to her head. 

"Has all this happened this morning?" she said. "What a full morning, dear! Lovely autumn leaves! I shall go home and have my lunch and rest. Au reservoir, Diva. "

Miss Mapp's eternal reservoirs had begun to get on Diva's nerves, and asshe lingered here a moment more a great idea occurred to her, whichtemporarily banished the disappointment about the duellists. Elizabeth, as all the world knew, had accumulated a great reservoir of provisionsin the false book-case in her garden-room, and Diva determined that, ifshe could think of a neat phrase, the very next time Elizabeth said _aureservoir_ to her, she would work in an allusion to Elizabeth's ownreservoir of corned beef, tongue, flour, bovril, dried apricots andcondensed milk. She would have to frame some stinging rejoinder whichwould "escape her" when next Elizabeth used that stale old phrase: itwould have to be short, swift and spontaneous, and therefore requiredcareful thought. It would be good to bring "pop" into it also. "Yourreservoir in the garden-room hasn't gone 'pop' again, I hope, darling?"was the first draft that occurred to her, but that was not sufficientlycondensed. "Pop goes the reservoir, " on the analogy of the weasel, wasbetter. And, better than either, was there not some sort of corn calledpop-corn, which Americans ate?. .. "Have you any pop-corn in yourreservoir?" That would be a nasty one. .. . 

But it all required thinking over, and the sight of the Padre and theduellists crossing the field below, as she still lingered on thisescarpment of the hill, brought the duel back to her mind. It would havebeen considered inquisitive even at Tilling to put direct questions tothe combatants, and (still hoping for the best) ask them point-blank"Who won?" or something of that sort; but until she arrived at some sortof information, the excruciating pangs of curiosity that must be enduredcould be likened only to some acute toothache of the mind with nodentist to stop or remove the source of the trouble. Elizabeth hadalready succumbed to these pangs of surmise and excitement, and hadfrankly gone home to rest, and her absence, the fact that for the nexthour or two she could not, except by some extraordinary feat on thetelephone, get hold of anything which would throw light on the wholeprodigious situation, inflamed Diva's brain to the highest pitch ofinventiveness. She knew that she was Elizabeth's inferior in point ofreconstructive imagination, and the present moment, while the other wasrecuperating her energies for fresh assaults on the unknown, was Diva'sopportunity. The one person who might be presumed to know more thananybody else was the Padre, but while he was with the duellists, it wasas impossible to ask him what had happened as to ask the duellists whohad won. She must, while Miss Mapp rested, get hold of the Padre withoutthe duellists. 

Even as Athene sprang full grown and panoplied from the brain of Zeus, so from Diva's brain there sprang her plan complete. She even resistedthe temptation to go on admiring autumn tints, in order to see how theinteresting trio "looked" when, as they must presently do, they passedclose to where she stood, and hurried home, pausing only to purchase, pay for, and carry away with her from the provision shop a large andexpensively-dressed crab, a dainty of which the Padre was inordinatelyfond. Ruinous as this was, there was a note of triumph in her voicewhen, on arrival, she called loudly for Janet, and told her to layanother place at the luncheon table. Then putting a strong constraint onherself, she waited three minutes by her watch, in order to give thePadre time to get home, and then rang him up and reminded him that hehad promised to lunch with her that day. It was no use asking him tolunch in such a way that he might refuse: she employed without remorsethis pitiless _force majeure_. 

The engagement was short and brisk. He pleaded that not even now couldhe remember even having been asked (which was not surprising), and saidthat he and wee wifie had begun lunch. On which Diva unmasked her lastgun, and told him that she had ordered a crab on purpose. That silencedfurther argument, and he said that he and wee wifie would be round in ajiffy, and rang off. She did not particularly want wee wifie, but therewas enough crab. 

Diva felt that she had never laid out four shillings to better purpose, when, a quarter of an hour later, the Padre gave her the full account ofhis fruitless search among the sand-dunes, so deeply impressive was hissense of being buoyed up to that incredibly fatiguing and perilousexcursion by some Power outside himself. It never even occurred to herto think that it was an elaborate practical joke on the part of thePower outside himself, to spur him on to such immense exertions to nopurpose at all. He had only got as far as this over his interruptedlunch with wee wifie, and though she, too, was in agonized suspense asto what happened next, she bore the repetition with great equanimity, only making small mouse-like noises of impatience which nobody heard. Hewas quite forgetting to speak either Scotch or Elizabethan English, soobvious was the absorption of his hearers, without these added aids tocommand attention. 

"And then I came round the corner of the club-house, " he said, "andthere were Captain Puffin and the Major finishing their match on theeighteenth hole. "

"Then there's been no duel at all, " said Diva, scraping the shell of thecrab. 

"I feel sure of it. There wouldn't have been time for a duel and a roundof golf, in addition to the impossibility of playing golf immediatelyafter a duel. No nerves could stand it. Besides, I asked one of theircaddies. They had come straight from the tram to the club-house, andfrom the club-house to the first tee. They had not been alone for amoment. "

"Wash-out, " said Diva, wondering whether this had been worth fourshillings, so tame was the conclusion. 

Mrs. Bartlett gave a little squeak which was her preliminary to speech. 

"But I do not see why there may not be a duel yet, Kenneth, " she said. "Because they did not fight this morning--excellent crab, dear Diva, sogood of you to ask us--there's no reason why there shouldn't be a duelthis afternoon. O dear me, and cold beef as well: I shall be quitestuffed. Depend upon it a man doesn't take the trouble to write achallenge and all that, unless he means business. "

The Padre held up his hand. He felt that he was gradually growing to bethe hero of the whole affair. He had certainly looked over the edge ofnumberless hollows in the sand-dunes with vivid anticipations of havinga bullet whizz by him on each separate occasion. It behoved him to takea sublime line. 

"My dear, " he said, "business is hardly a word to apply to murder. Thatwithin the last twenty-four hours there was the intention of fighting aduel, I don't deny. But something has decidedly happened which hasaverted that deplorable calamity. Peace and reconciliation is the resultof it, and I have never seen two men so unaffectedly friendly. "

Diva got up and whirled round the table to get the port for the Padre, so pleased was she at a fresh idea coming to her while still dearElizabeth was resting. She attributed it to the crab. 

"We've all been on a false scent, " she said. "Peace and reconciliationhappened before they went out to the sand-dunes at all. It happened atthe station. They met at the station, you know. It is proved that MajorFlint went there. Major wouldn't send portmanteau off alone. And it'sproved that Captain Puffin went there too, because the note which hishousemaid found on the table before she saw the challenge from theMajor, which was on the chimney-piece, said that he had been called awayvery suddenly. No: they both went to catch the early train in order togo away before they could be stopped, and kill each other. But whydidn't they go? What happened? Don't suppose the outside porter showedthem how wicked they were, confirmation-class or no confirmation-class. Stumps me. Almost wish Elizabeth was here. She's good at guessing. "

The Padre's eye brightened. Reaction after the perils of the morning, crab and port combined to make a man of him. 

"Eh, 'tis a bonny wee drappie of port whatever, Mistress Plaistow, " hesaid. "And I dinna ken that ye're far wrang in jaloosing that MistressMapp might have a wee bitty word to say aboot it a', 'gin she had themind. "

"She was wrong about the portmanteau, " said Diva. "Confessed she waswrong. "

"Hoots! I'm not mindin' the bit pochmantie, " said the Padre. 

"What else does she know?" asked Diva feverishly. 

There was no doubt that the Padre had the fullest attention of the twoladies again, and there was no need to talk Scotch any more. 

"Begin at the beginning, " he said. "What do we suppose was the cause ofthe quarrel?"

"Anything, " said Diva. "Golf, tiger-skins, coal-strike, summer-time. "

He shook his head. 

"I grant you words may pass on such subjects, " he said. "We feel keenly, I know, about summer-time in Tilling, though we shall all be reconciledover that next Sunday, when real time, God's time, as I am venturing tocall it in my sermon, comes in again. "

Diva had to bite her tongue to prevent herself bolting off on this newscent. After all, she had invested in crab to learn about duelling, notabout summer-time. 

"Well?" she said. 

"We may have had words on that subject, " said the Padre, booming as ifhe was in the pulpit already, "but we should, I hope, none of us go sofar as to catch the earliest train with pistols, in defence of ourconviction about summer-time. No, Mrs. Plaistow, if you are right, andthere is something to be said for your view, in thinking that they bothwent to such lengths as to be in time for the early train, in order tofight a duel undisturbed, you must look for a more solid cause thanthat. "

Diva vainly racked her brains to think of anything more worthy of thehighest pitches of emotion than this. If it had been she and Miss Mappwho had been embroiled, hoarding and dress would have occurred to her. But as it was, no one in his senses could dream that the Captain and theMajor were sartorial rivals, unless they had quarrelled over thequestion as to which of them wore the snuffiest old clothes. 

"Give it up, " she said. "What did they quarrel about?"

"Passion!" said the Padre, in those full, deep tones in which nextSunday he would allude to God's time. "I do not mean anger, but theflame that exalts man to heaven or--or does exactly the opposite!"

"But whomever for?" asked Diva, quite thrown off her bearings. Such athing had never occurred to her, for, as far as she was aware, passion, except in the sense of temper, did not exist in Tilling. Tilling wasfar too respectable. 

The Padre considered this a moment. 

"I am betraying no confidence, " he said, "because no one has confided inme. But there certainly is a lady in this town--I do not allude to MissIrene--who has long enjoyed the Major's particular esteem. May not somedeprecating remark----"

Wee wifie gave a much louder squeal than usual. 

"He means poor Elizabeth, " she said in a high, tremulous voice. "Fancy, Kenneth!"

Diva, a few seconds before, had seen no reason why the Padre shoulddrink the rest of her port, and was now in the act of drinking some ofthat unusual beverage herself. She tried to swallow it, but it was toolate, and next moment all the openings in her face were fountains ofthat delicious wine. She choked and she gurgled, until the last drop hadleft her windpipe--under the persuasion of pattings on the back from theothers--and then she gave herself up to loud, hoarse laughter, throughwhich there shrilled the staccato squeaks of wee wifie. Nothing, even ifyou are being laughed at yourself, is so infectious as prolongedlaughter, and the Padre felt himself forced to join it. When one of themgot a little better, a relapse ensued by reason of infection from theothers, and it was not till exhaustion set in, that this triple volcanobecame quiescent again. 

"Only fancy!" said Evie faintly. "How did such an idea get into yourhead, Kenneth?"

His voice shook as he answered. 

"Well, we were all a little worked up this morning, " he said. "Theidea--really, I don't know what we have all been laughing at----"

"I do, " said Diva. "Go on. About the idea----"

A feminine, a diabolical inspiration flared within wee wifie's mind. 

"Elizabeth suggested it herself, " she squealed. 

Naturally Diva could not help remembering that she had found Miss Mappand the Padre in earnest conversation together when she forced her wayin that morning with the news that the duellists had left by the 11. 20tram. Nobody could be expected to have so short a memory as to haveforgotten _that_. Just now she forgave Elizabeth for anything she hadever done. That might have to be reconsidered afterwards, but at presentit was valid enough. 

"Did she suggest it?" she asked. 

The Padre behaved like a man, and lied like Ananias. 

"Most emphatically she did not, " he said. 

The disappointment would have been severe, had the two ladies believedthis confident assertion, and Diva pictured a delightful interview withElizabeth, in which she would suddenly tell her the wild surmise thePadre had made with regard to the cause of the duel, and see how shelooked then. Just see how she looked then: that wasall--self-consciousness and guilt would fly their colours. .. . 

 * * * * *

Miss Mapp had been tempted when she went home that morning, afterenjoying the autumn tints, to ask Diva to lunch with her, but rememberedin time that she had told her cook to broach one of the tins ofcorned-beef which no human wizard could coax into the store-cupboardagain, if he shut the door after it. Diva would have been sure to saysomething acid and allusive, to remark on its excellence being happilynot wasted on the poor people in the hospital, or, if she had not saidanything at all about it, her silence as she ate a great deal would havehad a sharp flavour. But Miss Mapp would have liked, especially when shewent to take her rest afterwards on the big sofa in the garden-room, tohave had somebody to talk to, for her brain seethed with conjectures asto what had happened, was happening and would happen, and discussion wasthe best method of simplifying a problem, of narrowing it down to thelimits of probability, whereas when she was alone now with her ownimaginings, the most fantastic of them seemed plausible. She had, however, handed a glorious suggestion to the Padre, the one, that is, which concerned the cause of the duel, and it had been highlysatisfactory to observe the sympathy and respect with which he hadimbibed it. She had, too, been so discreet about it; she had not comewithin measurable distance of asserting that the challenge had been inany way connected with her. She had only been very emphatic on the pointof its not being connected with poor dear Irene, and then occupiedherself with her sweet flowers. That had been sufficient, and she feltin her bones and marrow that he inferred what she had meant him toinfer. .. . 

The vulture of surmise ceased to peck at her for a few moments as sheconsidered this, and followed up a thread of gold. .. . Though the Padrewould surely be discreet, she hoped that he would "let slip" to dearEvie in the course of the vivid conversation they would be sure to haveover lunch, that he had a good guess as to the cause which had led tothat savage challenge. Upon which dear Evie would be certain to ply himwith direct squeaks and questions, and when she "got hot" (as in animal, vegetable and mineral) his reticence would lead her to make a goodguess too. She might be incredulous, but there the idea would be in hermind, while if she felt that these stirring days were no time forscepticism, she could hardly fail to be interested and touched. Beforelong (how soon Miss Mapp was happily not aware) she would "pop in" tosee Diva, or Diva would "pop in" to see her, and, Evie observing adiscretion similar to that of the Padre and herself, would soon enabledear Diva to make a good guess too. After that, all would be well, fordear Diva ("such a gossiping darling") would undoubtedly tell everybodyin Tilling, under vows of secrecy (so that she should have the pleasureof telling everybody herself) just what her good guess was. Thus, verypresently, all Tilling would know exactly that which Miss Mapp had notsaid to the dear Padre, namely, that the duel which had been fought (orwhich hadn't been fought) was "all about" her. And the best of it was, that though everybody knew, it would still be a great and beautifulsecret, reposing inviolably in every breast or chest, as the case mightbe. She had no anxiety about anybody asking direct questions of theduellists, for if duelling, for years past, had been a subject which nodelicately-minded person alluded to purposely in Major Benjy's presence, how much more now after this critical morning would that subject betaboo? That certainly was a good thing, for the duellists if closelyquestioned might have a different explanation, and it would be highlyinconvenient to have two contradictory stories going about. But, as itwas, nothing could be nicer: the whole of the rest of Tilling, underpromise of secrecy, would know, and even if under further promises ofsecrecy they communicated their secret to each other, there would be noharm done. .. . 

After this excursion into Elysian fields, poor Miss Mapp had to getback to her vulture again, and the hour's rest that she had felt was dueto herself as the heroine of a duel became a period of extraordinarycerebral activity. Puzzle as she might, she could make nothing whateverof the portmanteau and the excursion to the early train, and she got uplong before her hour was over, since she found that the more shethought, the more invincible were the objections to any conclusion thatshe drowningly grasped at. Whatever attack she made on this mystery, thegarrison failed to march out and surrender but kept their flag flying, and her conjectures were woefully blasted by the forces of the mostelementary reasons. But as the agony of suspense, if no fresh topic ofinterest intervened, would be frankly unendurable, she determined toconcentrate no more on it, but rather to commit it to the ice-house orsafe of her subconscious mind, from which at will, when she feltrefreshed and reinvigorated, she could unlock it and examine it again. The whole problem was more superlatively baffling than any that shecould remember having encountered in all these inquisitive years, justas the subject of it was more majestic than any, for it concerned nothoarding, nor visits of the Prince of Wales, nor poppy-trimmed gowns, but life and death and firing of deadly pistols. And should love beadded to this august list? Certainly not by her, though Tilling might dowhat it liked. In fact Tilling always did. 

She walked across to the bow-window from which she had conducted so manyexciting and successful investigations. But to-day the view seemed asstale and unprofitable as the world appeared to Hamlet, even though Mrs. Poppit at that moment went waddling down the street and disappearedround the corner where the dentist and Mr. Wyse lived. With a sense offatigue Miss Mapp recalled the fact that she had seen the housemaidcleaning Mr. Wyse's windows yesterday--("Children dear, was ityesterday?")--and had noted her industry, and drawn from it theirresistible conclusion that Mr. Wyse was probably expected home. Heusually came back about mid-October, and let slip allusions to hisenjoyable visits in Scotland and his _villeggiatura_ (so he was pleasedto express it) with his sister the Contessa di Faraglione at Capri. ThatContessa Faraglione was rather a mythical personage to Miss Mapp's mind:she was certainly not in a mediæval copy of "Who's Who?" which was theonly accessible handbook in matters relating to noble and notablepersonages, and though Miss Mapp would not have taken an oath that shedid not exist, she saw no strong reason for supposing that she did. Certainly she had never been to Tilling, which was strange as herbrother lived there, and there was nothing but her brother's allusionsto certify her. About Mrs. Poppit now: had she gone to see Mr. Wyse orhad she gone to the dentist? One or other it must be, for apart fromthem that particular street contained nobody who counted, and at thebottom it simply conducted you out into the uneventful country. Mrs. Poppit was all dressed up, and she would never walk in the country insuch a costume. It would do either for Mr. Wyse or the dentist, for shewas the sort of woman who would like to appear grand in the dentist'schair, so that he might be shy of hurting such a fine lady. Then again, Mrs. Poppit had wonderful teeth, almost too good to be true, and beforenow she had asked who lived at that pretty little house just round thecorner, as if to show that she didn't know where the dentist lived! Orhad she found out by some underhand means that Mr. Wyse had come back, and had gone to call on him and give him the first news of the duel, and talk to him about Scotland? Very likely they had neither of thembeen to Scotland at all: they conspired to say that they had been toScotland and stayed at shooting-lodges (keepers' lodges more likely) inorder to impress Tilling with their magnificence. .. . 

Miss Mapp sat down on the central-heating pipes in her window, and fellinto one of her reconstructive musings. Partly, if Mr. Wyse was back, itwas well just to run over his record; partly she wanted to divert hermind from the two houses just below, that of Major Benjy on the one sideand that of Captain Puffin on the other, which contained the key to thegreat, insoluble mystery, from conjecture as to which she wanted toobtain relief. Mr. Wyse, anyhow, would serve as a mild opiate, for shehad never lost an angry interest in him. Though he was for eight monthsof the year, or thereabouts, in Tilling, he was never, for a singlehour, _of_ Tilling. He did not exactly invest himself with an air ofcondescension and superiority--Miss Mapp did him that justice--but hemade other people invest him with it, so that it came to the same thing:he was invested. He did not drag the fact of his sister being theContessa Faraglione into conversation, but if talk turned on sisters, and he was asked about his, he confessed to her nobility. The samephenomenon appeared when the innocent county of Hampshire was mentioned, for it turned out that he knew the county well, being one of the Wysesof Whitchurch. You couldn't say he talked about it, but he made otherpeople talk about it. .. . He was quite impervious to satire on suchpoints, for when, goaded to madness, Miss Mapp had once said that shewas one of the Mapps of Maidstone, he had merely bowed and said: "A veryold family, I believe, " and when the conversation branched off on toold families he had rather pointedly said "we" to Miss Mapp. So poorMiss Mapp was sorry she had been satirical. .. . But for some reason, Tilling never ceased to play up to Mr. Wyse, and there was not atea-party or a bridge-party given during the whole period of hisresidence there to which he was not invited. Hostesses always startedwith him, sending him round a note with "To await answer, " written inthe top left-hand corner, since he had clearly stated that he consideredthe telephone an undignified instrument only fit to be used forhousehold purposes, and had installed his in the kitchen, in the mannerof the Wyses of Whitchurch. That alone, apart from Mr. Wyse'sold-fashioned notions on the subject, made telephoning impossible, foryour summons was usually answered by his cook, who instantly beganscolding the butcher irrespective and disrespectful of whom you were. When her mistake was made known to her, she never apologized, butgrudgingly said she would call Mr. Figgis, who was Mr. Wyse's valet. Mr. Figgis always took a long time in coming, and when he came he sneezed ordid something disagreeable and said: "Yes, yes; what is it?" in a verytesty manner. After explanations he would consent to tell his master, which took another long time, and even then Mr. Wyse did not comehimself, and usually refused the proffered invitation. Miss Mapp hadtried the expedient of sending Withers to the telephone when she wantedto get at Mr. Wyse, but this had not succeeded, for Withers and Mr. Wyse's cook quarrelled so violently before they got to business that Mr. Figgis had to calm the cook and Withers to complain to Miss Mapp. .. . This, in brief, was the general reason why Tilling sent notes to Mr. Wyse. As for chatting through the telephone, which was the main use oftelephones, the thing was quite out of the question. 

Miss Mapp revived a little as she made this piercing analysis of Mr. Wyse, and the warmth of the central heating pipes, on this baffling dayof autumn tints, was comforting. .. . No one could say that Mr. Wyse wasnot punctilious in matters of social etiquette, for though he refusedthree-quarters of the invitations which were showered on him, heinvariably returned the compliment by an autograph note hoping that hemight have the pleasure of entertaining you at lunch on Thursday next, for he always gave a small luncheon-party on Thursday. These invitationswere couched in Chesterfield-terms: Mr. Wyse said that he had met amutual friend just now who had informed him that you were in residence, and had encouraged him to hope that you might give him the pleasure ofyour company, etc. This was alluring diction: it presented the image ofMr. Wyse stepping briskly home again, quite heartened up by this chanceencounter, and no longer the prey to melancholy at the thought that youmight not give him the joy. He was encouraged to hope. .. . These politeexpressions were traced in a neat upright hand on paper which, when hehad just come back from Italy, often bore a coronet on the top with"Villa Faraglione, Capri" printed on the right-hand top corner and"Amelia" (the name of his putative sister) in sprawling gilt on theleft, the whole being lightly erased. Of course he was quite right tofilch a few sheets, but it threw rather a lurid light on his characterthat they should be such grand ones. 

Last year only, in a fit of passion at Mr. Wyse having refused sixinvitations running on the plea of other engagements, Miss Mapp hadheaded a movement, the object of which was that Tilling should notaccept any of Mr. Wyse's invitations unless he accepted its. This hadmet with theoretical sympathy; the Bartletts, Diva, Irene, the Poppitshad all agreed--rather absently--that it would be a very proper thing todo, but the very next Thursday they had all, including the originator, met on Mr. Wyse's doorstep for a luncheon-party, and the movement thenand there collapsed. Though they all protested and rebelled against sucha notion, the horrid fact remained that everybody basked in Mr. Wyse'seffulgence whenever it was disposed to shed itself on them. Much as theydistrusted the information they dragged out of him, they adored hearingabout the Villa Faraglione, and dressed themselves in their very bestclothes to do so. Then again there was the quality of the lunch itself:often there was caviare, and it was impossible (though the interrogatorwho asked whether it came from Twemlow's feared the worst) not to bemildly excited to know, when Mr. Wyse referred the question to Figgis, that the caviare had arrived from Odessa that morning. The haunch ofroe-deer came from Perthshire; the wine, on the subject of which theMajor could not be silent, and which often made him extremely talkative, was from "my brother-in-law's vineyard. " And Mr. Wyse would taste itwith the air of a connoisseur and say: "Not quite as good as last year:I must tell the Cont---- I mean my sister. "

Again when Mr. Wyse did condescend to honour a tea-party or abridge-party, Tilling writhed under the consciousness that their generaldeportment was quite different from that which they ordinarily practisedamong themselves. There was never any squabbling at Mr. Wyse's table, and such squabbling as took place at the other tables was conducted inlow hissings and whispers, so that Mr. Wyse should not hear. Diva neverhaggled over her gains or losses when he was there, the Padre nevertalked Scotch or Elizabethan English. Evie never squeaked like a mouse, no shrill recriminations or stately sarcasms took place betweenpartners, and if there happened to be a little disagreement about therules, Mr. Wyse's decision, though he was not a better player than anyof them, was accepted without a murmur. At intervals for refreshment, inthe same way, Diva no longer filled her mouth and both hands withnougat-chocolate; there was no scrambling or jostling, but the ladieswere waited on by the gentlemen, who then refreshed themselves. And yetMr. Wyse in no way asserted himself, or reduced them all to politenessby talking about the polished manners of Italians; it was Tilling itselfwhich chose to behave in this unusual manner in his presence. SometimesDiva might forget herself for a moment, and address something witheringto her partner, but the partner never replied in suitable terms, andDiva became honey-mouthed again. It was, indeed, if Mr. Wyse hadappeared at two or three parties, rather a relief not to find him at thenext, and breathe freely in less rarefied air. But whether he came ornot he always returned the invitation by one to a Thursdayluncheon-party, and thus the high circles of Tilling met every week athis house. 

Miss Mapp came to the end of this brief retrospect, and determined, whenonce it was proved that Mr. Wyse had arrived, to ask him to tea onTuesday. That would mean lunch with him on Thursday, and it wasunnecessary to ask anybody else unless Mr. Wyse accepted. If he refused, there would be no tea-party. .. . But, after the events of the lasttwenty-four hours, there was no vividness in these plans andreminiscences, and her eye turned to the profile of the Colonel's house. 

"The portmanteau, " she said to herself. .. . No: she must take her mindoff that subject. She would go for a walk, not into the High Street, butinto the quiet level country, away from the turmoil of passion (in thePadre's sense) and quarrels (in her own), where she could cool hercuriosity and her soul with contemplation of the swallows and the whitebutterflies (if they had not all been killed by the touch of frost lastnight) and the autumn tints of which there were none whatever in thetreeless marsh. .. . Decidedly the shortest way out of the town was thatwhich led past Mr. Wyse's house. But before leaving the garden-room shepractised several faces at the looking-glass opposite the door, whichshould suitably express, if she met anybody to whom the cause of thechallenge was likely to have spread, the bewildering emotion which theunwilling cause of it must feel. There must be a wistful wonder, theremust be a certain pride, there must be the remains of romanticexcitement, and there must be deep womanly anxiety. The carriage of thehead "did" the pride, the wide-open eyes "did" the wistful wonder andthe romance, the deep womanly anxiety lurked in the tremulous smile, anda violent rubbing of the cheeks produced the colour of excitement. Inanswer to any impertinent questions, if she encountered such, she meantto give an absent answer, as if she had not understood. Thus equippedshe set forth. 

It was rather disappointing to meet nobody, but as she passed Mr. Wyse'sbow-window she adjusted the chrysanthemums she wore, and she had a goodsight of his profile and the back of Mrs. Poppit's head. They appeareddeep in conversation, and Miss Mapp felt that the tiresome woman wasprobably giving him a very incomplete account of what had happened. Shereturned late for tea, and broke off her apologies to Withers for beingsuch a trouble because she saw a note on the hall table. There was acoronet on the back of the envelope, and it was addressed in the neat, punctilious hand which so well expressed its writer. Villa Faraglione, Capri, a coronet and Amelia all lightly crossed out headed the page, andshe read:

 "DEAR MISS MAPP, "It is such a pleasure to find myself in our little Tilling again, and our mutual friend Mrs. Poppit, M. B. E. , tells me you are in residence, and encourages me to hope that I may induce you to take _déjeuner_ with me on Thursday, at one o'clock. May I assure you, with all delicacy, that you will not meet here anyone whose presence could cause you the slightest embarrassment?

 "Pray excuse this hasty note. Figgis will wait for your answer if you are in. 

 "Yours very sincerely, "ALGERNON WYSE. "

Had not Withers been present, who might have misconstrued her action, Miss Mapp would have kissed the note; failing that, she forgave Mrs. Poppit for being an M. B. E. 

"The dear woman!" she said. "She has heard, and has told him. "

Of course she need not ask Mr. Wyse to tea now. .. . 

CHAPTER VII

A white frost on three nights running and a terrible blackening ofdahlias, whose reputation was quite gone by morning, would probably haveconvinced the ladies of Tilling that it was time to put summer clothingin camphor and winter clothing in the back-yard to get aired, even ifthe Padre had not preached that remarkable sermon on Sunday. It was soremarkable that Miss Mapp quite forgot to note grammatical lapses andlistened entranced. 

The text was, "He made summer and winter, " and after repeating the wordsvery impressively, so that there might be no mistake about the origin ofthe seasons, the Padre began to talk about something quitedifferent--namely, the unhappy divisions which exist in Christiancommunities. That did not deceive Miss Mapp for a moment: she sawprecisely what he was getting at over his oratorical fences. He got atit. .. . 

Ever since Summer-time had been inaugurated a few years before, it hadbeen one of the chronic dissensions of Tilling. Miss Mapp, Diva and thePadre flatly refused to recognize it, except when they were going bytrain or tram, when principle must necessarily go to the wall, or theywould never have succeeded in getting anywhere, while Miss Mapp, withthe halo of martyrdom round her head, had once arrived at a Summer-timeparty an hour late, in order to bear witness to the truth, and, inconsequence, had got only dregs of tea and the last faint strawberry. But the Major and Captain Puffin used the tram so often, that they hadfallen into the degrading habit of dislocating their clocks and watcheson the first of May, and dislocating them again in the autumn, when theywere forced into uniformity with properly-minded people. Irene wasflippant on the subject, and said that any old time would do for her. The Poppits followed convention, and Mrs. Poppit, in naming the hour fora party to the stalwarts, wrote "4. 30 (your 3. 30). " The King, afterall, had invited her to be decorated at a particular hour, summer-time, and what was good enough for the King was good enough for Mrs. Poppit. 

The sermon was quite uncompromising. There was summer and winter, byDivine ordinance, but there was nothing said about summer-time andwinter-time. There was but one Time, and even as Life only stained thewhite radiance of eternity, as the gifted but, alas! infidel poetremarked, so, too, did Time. But ephemeral as Time was, noon in theBible clearly meant twelve o'clock, and not one o'clock: towards even, meant towards even, and not the middle of a broiling afternoon. Thesixth hour similarly was the Roman way of saying twelve. Winter-time, infact, was God's time, and though there was nothing wicked (far from it)in adopting strange measures, yet the simple, the childlike, clung tothe sacred tradition, which they had received from their fathers andforefathers at their mother's knee. Then followed a long and eloquentpassage, which recapitulated the opening about unhappy divisions, andcontained several phrases, regarding the lengths to which such divisionsmight go, which were strikingly applicable to duelling. The perorationrecapitulated the recapitulation, in case anyone had missed it, and thecoda, the close itself, in the full noon of the winter sun, was full ofjoy at the healing of all such unhappy divisions. And now. .. . The rainrattling against the windows drowned the Doxology. 

The doctrine was so much to her mind that Miss Mapp gave a shilling tothe offertory instead of her usual sixpence, to be devoted to theorganist and choir fund. The Padre, it is true, had changed the hour ofservices to suit the heresy of the majority, and this for a moment madeher hand falter. But the hope, after this convincing sermon, that nextyear morning service would be at the hour falsely called twelve decidedher not to withdraw this handsome contribution. 

Frosts and dead dahlias and sermons then were together overwhelminglyconvincing, and when Miss Mapp went out on Monday morning to do hershopping, she wore a tweed skirt and jacket, and round her neck a longwoollen scarf to mark the end of the summer. Mrs. Poppit, alone in herdisgusting ostentation, had seemed to think two days ago that it wascold enough for furs, and she presented a truly ridiculous aspect in anenormous sable coat, under the weight of which she could hardly stagger, and stood rooted to the spot when she stepped out of the Royce. Briskwalking and large woollen scarves saved the others from feeling the coldand from being unable to move, and this morning the High Street wasdazzling with the shifting play of bright colours. There was quite agroup of scarves at the corner, where Miss Mapp's street debouched intothe High Street: Irene was there (for it was probably too cold for Mr. Hopkins that morning), looking quainter than ever in corduroys and mauvestockings with an immense orange scarf bordered with pink. Diva wasthere, wound up in so delicious a combination of rose-madder andCambridge blue, that Miss Mapp, remembering the history of therose-madder, had to remind herself how many things there were in theworld more important than worsted. Evie was there in vivid green with apurple border, the Padre had a knitted magenta waistcoat, and Mrs. Poppit that great sable coat which almost prevented movement. They wereall talking together in a very animated manner when first Miss Mapp camein sight, and if, on her approach, conversation seemed to wither, theyall wore, besides their scarves, very broad, pleasant smiles. Miss Mapphad a smile, too, as good as anybody's. 

"Good morning, all you dear things, " she said. "How lovely you alllook--just like a bed of delicious flowers! Such nice colours! My poordahlias are all dead. "

Quaint Irene uttered a hoarse laugh, and, swinging her basket, wentquickly away. She often did abrupt things like that. Miss Mapp turned tothe Padre. 

"Dear Padre, what a delicious sermon!" she said. "So glad you preachedit! Such a warning against all sorts of divisions!"

The Padre had to compose his face before he responded to thesecompliments. 

"I'm reecht glad, fair lady, " he replied, "that my bit discourse was toyour mind. Come, wee wifie, we must be stepping. "

Quite suddenly all the group, with the exception of Mrs. Poppit, meltedaway. Wee wifie gave a loud squeal, as if to say something, but herhusband led her firmly off, while Diva, with rapidly revolving feet, sped like an arrow up the centre of the High Street. 

"Such a lovely morning!" said Miss Mapp to Mrs. Poppit, when there wasno one else to talk to. "And everyone looks so pleased and happy, andall in such a hurry, busy as bees, to do their little businesses. Yes. "

Mrs. Poppit began to move quietly away with the deliberate, tortoise-like progression necessitated by the fur coat. It struck MissMapp that she, too, had intended to take part in the general breaking upof the group, but had merely been unable to get under way as fast as theothers. 

"Such a lovely fur coat, " said Miss Mapp sycophantically. "Suchbeautiful long fur! And what is the news this morning? Has a little birdbeen whispering anything?"

"Nothing, " said Mrs. Poppit very decidedly, and having now sufficientway on to turn, she went up the street down which Miss Mapp had justcome. The latter was thus left all alone with her shopping basket andher scarf. 

With the unerring divination which was the natural fruit of so manyyears of ceaseless conjecture, she instantly suspected the worst. Allthat busy conversation which her appearance had interrupted, all thosesmiles which her presence had seemed but to render broader and morehilarious, certainly concerned her. They could not still have beentalking about that fatal explosion from the cupboard in the garden-room, because the duel had completely silenced the last echoes of that, andshe instantly put her finger on the spot. Somebody had been gossiping(and how she hated gossip); somebody had given voice to what she hadbeen so studiously careful not to say. Until that moment, when she hadseen the rapid breaking up of the group of her friends all radiant withmerriment, she had longed to be aware that somebody had given voice toit, and that everybody (under seal of secrecy) knew the uniquequeenliness of her position, the overwhelmingly interesting rôle thatthe violent passions of men had cast her for. She had not believed inthe truth of it herself, when that irresistible seizure of coquetry tookpossession of her as she bent over her sweet chrysanthemums; but thePadre's respectful reception of it had caused her to hope that everybodyelse might believe in it. The character of the smiles, however, thatwreathed the faces of her friends did not quite seem to give fruition tothat hope. There were smiles and smiles, respectful smiles, sympatheticsmiles, envious and admiring smiles, but there were also smiles ofhilarious and mocking incredulity. She concluded that she had to dealwith the latter variety. 

"Something, " thought Miss Mapp, as she stood quite alone in the HighStreet, with Mrs. Poppit labouring up the hill, and Diva already arose-madder speck in the distance, "has got to be done, " and it onlyremained to settle what. Fury with the dear Padre for having hintedprecisely what she meant, intended and designed that he should hint, wasperhaps the paramount emotion in her mind; fury with everybody else fornot respectfully believing what she did not believe herself made animportant pendant. 

"What am I to do?" said Miss Mapp aloud, and had to explain to Mr. Hopkins, who had all his clothes on, that she had not spoken to him. Then she caught sight again of Mrs. Poppit's sable coat hardly furtheroff than it had been when first this thunderclap of an intuitiondeafened her, and still reeling from the shock, she remembered that itwas almost certainly Mrs. Poppit who was the cause of Mr. Wyse writingher that exquisitely delicate note with regard to Thursday. It was aherculean task, no doubt, to plug up all the fountains of talk inTilling which were spouting so merrily at her expense, but a beginningmust be made before she could arrive at the end. A short scurry ofnimble steps brought her up to the sables. 

"Dear Mrs. Poppit, " she said, "if you are walking by my little house, would you give me two minutes' talk? And--so stupid of me to forget justnow--will you come in after dinner on Wednesday for a little rubber? Thedays are closing in now; one wants to make the most of the daylight, andI think it is time to begin our pleasant little winter evenings. "

This was a bribe, and Mrs. Poppit instantly pocketed it, with theeffect that two minutes later she was in the garden-room, and haddeposited her sable coat on the sofa ("Quite shook the room with theweight of it, " said Miss Mapp to herself while she arranged her plan). 

She stood looking out of the window for a moment, writhing withhumiliation at having to be suppliant to the Member of the BritishEmpire. She tried to remember Mrs. Poppit's Christian name, and was evenprepared to use that, but this crowning ignominy was saved her, as shecould not recollect it. 

"Such an annoying thing has happened, " she said, though the words seemedto blister her lips. "And you, dear Mrs. Poppit, as a woman of theworld, can advise me what to do. The fact is that somehow or other, andI can't think how, people are saying that the duel last week, which wasso happily averted, had something to do with poor little me. So absurd!But you know what gossips we have in our dear little Tilling. "

Mrs. Poppit turned on her a fallen and disappointed face. 

"But hadn't it?" she said. "Why, when they were all laughing about itjust now" ("I was right, then, " thought Miss Mapp, "and what a tactlesswoman!"), "I said I believed it. And I told Mr. Wyse. "

Miss Mapp cursed herself for her frankness. But she could obliteratethat again, and not lose a rare (goodness knew how rare!) believer. 

"I am in such a difficult position, " she said. "I think I ought to letit be understood that there is no truth whatever in such an idea, however much truth there may be. And did dear Mr. Wyse believe--in fact, I know he must have, for he wrote me, oh, such a delicate, understandingnote. He, at any rate, takes no notice of all that is being said andhinted. "

Miss Mapp was momentarily conscious that she meant precisely theopposite of this. Dear Mr. Wyse _did_ take notice, most respectfulnotice, of all that was being said and hinted, thank goodness! But aglance at Mrs. Poppit's fat and interested face showed her that theverbal discrepancy had gone unnoticed, and that the luscious flavour ofromance drowned the perception of anything else. She drew a handkerchiefout, and buried her thoughtful eyes in it a moment, rubbing them with astealthy motion, which Mrs. Poppit did not perceive, though Diva wouldhave. 

"My lips are sealed, " she continued, opening them very wide, "and I cansay nothing, except that I want this rumour to be contradicted. Idaresay those who started it thought it was true, but, true or false, Imust say nothing. I have always led a very quiet life in my littlehouse, with my sweet flowers for my companions, and if there is onething more than another that I dislike, it is that my private affairsshould be made matters of public interest. I do no harm to anybody, Iwish everybody well, and nothing--nothing will induce me to open my lipsupon this subject. I will not, " cried Miss Mapp, "say a word to defendor justify myself. What is true will prevail. It comes in the Bible. "

Mrs. Poppit was too much interested in what she said to mind where itcame from. 

"What can I do?" she asked. 

"Contradict, dear, the rumour that I have had anything to do with theterrible thing which might have happened last week. Say on my authoritythat it is so. I tremble to think"--here she trembled very much--"whatmight happen if the report reached Major Benjy's ears, and he found outwho had started it. We must have no more duels in Tilling. I thought Ishould never survive that morning. "

"I will go and tell Mr. Wyse instantly--dear, " said Mrs. Poppit. 

That would never do. True believers were so scarce that it was wicked tothink of unsettling their faith. 

"Poor Mr. Wyse!" said Miss Mapp with a magnanimous smile. "Do not think, dear, of troubling him with these little trumpery affairs. He will nottake part in these little tittle-tattles. But if you could let dear Divaand quaint Irene and sweet Evie and the good Padre know that I laugh atall such nonsense----"

"But they laugh at it, too, " said Mrs. Poppit. 

That would have been baffling for anyone who allowed herself to bebaffled, but that was not Miss Mapp's way. 

"Oh, that bitter laughter!" she said. "It hurt me to hear it. It wasenvious laughter, dear, scoffing, bitter laughter. I heard! I cannotbear that the dear things should feel like that. Tell them that I sayhow silly they are to believe anything of the sort. Trust me, I am rightabout it. I wash my hands of such nonsense. "

She made a vivid dumb-show of this, and after drying them on animaginary towel, let a sunny smile peep out the eyes which she hadrubbed. 

"All gone!" she said; "and we will have a dear little party on Wednesdayto show we are all friends again. And we meet for lunch at dear Mr. Wyse's the next day? Yes? He will get tired of poor little me if he seesme two days running, so I shall not ask him. I will just try to get twotables together, and nobody shall contradict dear Diva, however manyshillings she says she has won. I would sooner pay them all myself thanhave any more of our unhappy divisions. You will have talked to themall before Wednesday, will you not, dear?"

As there were only four to talk to, Mrs. Poppit thought that she couldmanage it, and spent a most interesting afternoon. For two years now shehad tried to unfreeze Miss Mapp, who, when all was said and done, wasthe centre of the Tilling circle, and who, if any attempt was made toshove her out towards the circumference, always gravitated back again. And now, on these important errands she was Miss Mapp's accreditedambassador, and all the terrible business of the opening of thestore-cupboard and her decoration as M. B. E. Was quite forgiven andforgotten. There would be so much walking to be done from house tohouse, that it was impossible to wear her sable coat unless she had theRoyce to take her about. .. . 

The effect of her communications would have surprised anybody who didnot know Tilling. A less subtle society, when assured from a first-hand, authoritative source that a report which it had entirely refused tobelieve was false, would have prided itself on its perspicacity, andsaid that it had laughed at such an idea, as soon as ever it heard it, as being palpably (look at Miss Mapp!) untrue. Not so Tilling. The veryfact that, by the mouth of her ambassador, she so uncompromisinglydenied it, was precisely why Tilling began to wonder if there was notsomething in it, and from wondering if there was not something in it, surged to the conclusion that there certainly was. Diva, for instance, the moment she was told that Elizabeth (for Mrs. Poppit remembered herChristian name perfectly) utterly and scornfully denied the truth of thereport, became intensely thoughtful. 

"Say there's nothing in it?" she observed. "Can't understand that. "

At that moment Diva's telephone bell rang, and she hurried out and in. 

"Party at Elizabeth's on Wednesday, " she said. "She saw me laughing. Whyask me?"

Mrs. Poppit was full of her sacred mission. 

"To show how little she minds your laughing, " she suggested. 

"As if it wasn't true, then. Seems like that. Wants us to think it's nottrue. "

"She was very earnest about it, " said the ambassador. 

Diva got up, and tripped over the outlying skirts of Mrs. Poppit's furcoat as she went to ring the bell. 

"Sorry, " she said. "Take it off and have a chat. Tea's coming. Muffins!"

"Oh, no, thanks!" said Mrs. Poppit. "I've so many calls to make. "

"What? Similar calls?" asked Diva. "Wait ten minutes. Tea, Janet. Quickly. "

She whirled round the room once or twice, all corrugated withperplexity, beginning telegraphic sentences, and not finishing them:"Says it's not true--laughs at notion of--And Mr. Wyse believes--ThePadre believed. After all, the Major--Little cock-sparrow CaptainPuffin--Or t'other way round, do you think?--No other explanation, youknow--Might have been blood----"

She buried her teeth in a muffin. 

"Believe there's something in it, " she summed up. 

She observed her guest had neither tea nor muffin. 

"Help yourself, " she said. "Want to worry this out. "

"Elizabeth absolutely denies it, " said Mrs. Poppit. "Her eyes were fullof----"

"Oh, anything, " said Diva. "Rubbed them. Or pepper if it was at lunch. That's no evidence. "

"But her solemn assertion----" began Mrs. Poppit, thinking that she wasbeing a complete failure as an ambassador. She was carrying noconviction at all. 

"Saccharine!" observed Diva, handing her a small phial. "Haven't gotmore than enough sugar for myself. I expect Elizabeth's gotplenty--well, never mind that. Don't you see? If it wasn't true shewould try to convince us that it was. Seemed absurd on the face of it. But if she tries to convince us that it isn't true--well, something init. "

There was the gist of the matter, and Mrs. Poppit proceeding next to thePadre's house, found more muffins and incredulity. Nobody seemed tobelieve Elizabeth's assertion that there was "nothing in it. " Evie ranround the room with excited squeaks, the Padre nodded his head, inconfirmation of the opinion which, when he first delivered it, had beenreceived with mocking incredulity over the crab. Quaint Irene, intent onMr. Hopkins's left knee in the absence of the model, said, "Good oldMapp: better late than never. " Utter incredulity, in fact, was theambassador's welcome . .. And all the incredulous were going toElizabeth's party on Wednesday. 

Mrs. Poppit had sent the Royce home for the last of her calls, andstaggered up the hill past Elizabeth's house. Oddly enough, just as shepassed the garden-room, the window was thrown up. 

"Cup of tea, dear Susan?" said Elizabeth. She had found an old note ofMrs. Poppit's among the waste paper for the firing of the kitchen ovenfully signed. 

"Just two minutes' talk, Elizabeth, " she promptly responded. 

 * * * * *

The news that nobody in Tilling believed her left Miss Mapp more thancalm, on the bright side of calm, that is to say. She had a fewindulgent phrases that tripped readily off her tongue for the dearthings who hated to be deprived of their gossip, but Susan certainly didnot receive the impression that this playful magnanimity was attainedwith an effort. Elizabeth did not seem really to mind: she was very gay. Then, skilfully changing the subject, she mourned over her dead dahlias. 

Though Tilling with all its perspicacity could not have known it, theintuitive reader will certainly have perceived that Miss Mapp's partyfor Wednesday night had, so to speak, further irons in its fire. It hadoriginally been a bribe to Susan Poppit, in order to induce her tospread broadcast that that ridiculous rumour (whoever had launched it)had been promptly denied by the person whom it most immediatelyconcerned. It served a second purpose in showing that Miss Mapp was toohigh above the mire of scandal, however interesting, to know or care whomight happen to be wallowing in it, and for this reason she askedeverybody who had done so. Such loftiness of soul had earned her anamazing bonus, for it had induced those who sat in the seat of thescoffers before to come hastily off, and join the thin but unwaveringranks of the true believers, who up till then had consisted only ofSusan and Mr. Wyse. Frankly, so blest a conclusion had never occurred toMiss Mapp: it was one of those unexpected rewards that fall like ripeplums into the lap of the upright. By denying a rumour she had goteverybody to believe it, and when on Wednesday morning she went out toget the chocolate cakes which were so useful in allaying the appetitesof guests, she encountered no broken conversations and gleeful smiles, but sidelong glances of respectful envy. 

But what Tilling did not and could not know was that this, the first ofthe autumn after-dinner bridge-parties, was destined to look on thefamous teagown of kingfisher-blue, as designed for Mrs. Trout. No doubtother ladies would have hurried up their new gowns, or at least havecamouflaged their old ones, in honour of the annual inauguration ofevening bridge, but Miss Mapp had no misgivings about being outshone. And once again here she felt that luck waited on merit, for though whenshe dressed that evening she found she had not anticipated thatartificial light would cast a somewhat pale (though not ghastly)reflection from the vibrant blue on to her features, similar in effectto (but not so marked as) the light that shines on the faces of thosewho lean over the burning brandy and raisins of "snapdragon, " thisinteresting pallor seemed very aptly to bear witness to all that she hadgone through. She did not look ill--she was satisfied as to that--shelooked gorgeous and a little wan. 

The bridge tables were not set out in the garden-room, which entailed ascurry over damp gravel on a black, windy night, but in the littlesquare parlour above her dining-room, where Withers, in the intervals ofadmitting her guests, was laying out plates of sandwiches and thechocolate cakes, reinforced when the interval for refreshments came withhot soup, whisky and syphons, and a jug of "cup" prepared according toan ancestral and economical recipe, which Miss Mapp had taken a greatdeal of trouble about. A single bottle of white wine, with suitableadditions of ginger, nutmeg, herbs and soda-water, was the mother of agallon of a drink that seemed aflame with fiery and probably spirituousingredients. Guests were very careful how they partook of it, sostimulating it seemed. 

Miss Mapp was reading a book on gardening upside down (she had taken itup rather hurriedly) when the Poppits arrived, and sprang to her feetwith a pretty cry at being so unexpectedly but delightfully disturbed. 

"Susan! Isabel!" she said. "Lovely of you to have come! I was readingabout flowers, making plans for next year. "

She saw the four eyes riveted to her dress. Susan looked quite shabby incomparison, and Isabel did not look anything at all. 

"My dear, too lovely!" said Mrs. Poppit slowly. 

Miss Mapp looked brightly about, as if wondering what was too lovely: atlast she guessed. 

"Oh, my new frock?" she said. "Do you like it, dear? How sweet of you. It's just a little nothing that I talked over with that nice Miss Greelein the High Street. We put our heads together, and invented somethingquite cheap and simple. And here's Evie and the dear Padre. So kind ofyou to look in. "

Four more eyes were riveted on it. 

"Enticed you out just once, Padre, " went on Miss Mapp. "So sweet of youto spare an evening. And here's Major Benjy and Captain Puffin. Well, that is nice!"

This was really tremendous of Miss Mapp. Here was she meeting withoutembarrassment or awkwardness the two, who if the duel had not beenaverted, would have risked their very lives over some dispute concerningher. Everybody else, naturally, was rather taken aback for the moment atthis situation, so deeply dyed in the dramatic. Should either of thegladiators have heard that it was the Padre who undoubtedly had spreadthe rumour concerning their hostess, Mrs. Poppit was afraid that evenhis cloth might not protect him. But no such deplorable calamityoccurred, and only four more eyes were riveted to the kingfisher-blue. 

"Upon my word, " said the Major, "I never saw anything more beautifulthan that gown, Miss Elizabeth. Straight from Paris, eh? Paris in everyline of it. "

"Oh, Major Benjy, " said Elizabeth. "You're all making fun of me and mysimple little frock. I'm getting quite shy. Just a bit of old stuff thatI had. But so nice of you to like it. I wonder where Diva is. We shallhave to scold her for being late. Ah--she shan't be scolded. Diva, darl----"

The endearing word froze on Miss Mapp's lips and she turned deadlywhite. In the doorway, in equal fury and dismay, stood Diva, dressed inprecisely the same staggeringly lovely costume as her hostess. Had Divaand Miss Greele put their heads together too? Had Diva got a bit of oldstuff . .. ?

Miss Mapp pulled herself together first and moistened her dry lips. 

"So sweet of you to look in, dear, " she said. "Shall we cut?"

Naturally the malice of cards decreed that Miss Mapp and Diva should sitnext each other as adversaries at the same table, and the combinedeffect of two lots of kingfisher-blue was blinding. Complete silence onevery subject connected, however remotely, with dress was, of course, the only line for correct diplomacy to pursue, but then Major Benjy wasnot diplomatic, only gallant. 

"Never saw such stunning gowns, eh, Padre?" he said. "Dear me, they arevery much alike too, aren't they? Pair of exquisite sisters. "

It would be hard to say which of the two found this speech the moreprovocative of rage, for while Diva was four years younger than MissMapp, Miss Mapp was four inches taller than Diva. She cut the cards toher sister with a hand that trembled so much that she had to do itagain, and Diva could scarcely deal. 

 * * * * *

Mr. Wyse frankly confessed the next day when, at one o'clock, Elizabethfound herself the first arrival at his house, that he had been veryself-indulgent. 

"I have given myself a treat, dear Miss Mapp, " he said. "I have askedthree entrancing ladies to share my humble meal with me, and haveprovided--is it not shocking of me?--nobody else to meet them. Yourpardon, dear lady, for my greediness. "

Now this was admirably done. Elizabeth knew very well why two out of thethree men in Tilling had not been asked (very gratifying, that reasonwas), and with the true refinement of which Mr. Wyse was so amplypossessed, where he was taking all the blame on himself, and putting itso prettily. She bestowed her widest smile on him. 

"Oh, Mr. Wyse, " she said. "We shall all quarrel over you. "

Not until Miss Mapp had spoken did she perceive how subtle her wordswere. They seemed to bracket herself and Mr. Wyse together: all the men(two out of the three, at any rate) had been quarrelling over her, andnow there seemed a very fair prospect of three of the women quarrelingover Mr. Wyse. .. . 

Without being in the least effeminate, Mr. Wyse this morning lookedrather like a modern Troubadour. He had a velveteen coat on, a soft, fluffy, mushy tie which looked as if made of Shirley poppies, very neatknickerbockers, brown stockings with blobs, like the fruit of planetrees, dependent from elaborate "tops, " and shoes with a cascade ofleather frilling covering the laces. He might almost equally well beabout to play golf over putting-holes on the lawn as the guitar. He madea gesture of polished, polite dissent, not contradicting, yet hardlyaccepting this tribute, remitting it perhaps, just as the King when heenters the City of London touches the sword of the Lord Mayor and tellshim to keep it. .. . 

"So pleasant to be in Tilling again, " he said. "We shall have a cosy, busy winter, I hope. You, I know, Miss Mapp, are always busy. "

"The day is never long enough for me, " said Elizabeth enthusiastically. "What with my household duties in the morning, and my garden, and ourpleasant little gatherings, it is always bed-time too soon. I want toread a great deal this winter, too. "

Diva (at the sight of whom Elizabeth had to make a strong effort ofself-control) here came in, together with Mrs. Poppit, and the party wascomplete. Elizabeth would have been willing to bet that, in spite of thewarmness of the morning, Susan would have on her sable coat, and though, technically, she would have lost, she more than won morally, for Mr. Wyse's repeated speeches about his greediness were hardly out of hismouth when she discovered that she had left her handkerchief in thepocket of her sable coat, which she had put over the back of aconspicuous chair in the hall. Figgis, however, came in at the moment tosay that lunch was ready, and she delayed them all very much by a long, ineffectual search for it, during which Figgis, with a visible effort, held up the sable coat, so that it was displayed to the utmostadvantage. And then, only fancy, Susan discovered that it was in hersable muff all the time!

All three ladies were on tenterhooks of anxiety as to who was to beplaced on Mr. Wyse's right, who on his left, and who would be given onlythe place between two other women. But his tact was equal to anything. 

"Miss Mapp, " he said, "will you honour me by taking the head of my tableand be hostess for me? Only I must have that vase of flowers removed, Figgis; I can look at my flowers when Miss Mapp is not here. Now, whathave we got for breakfast--lunch, I should say?"

The macaroni which Mr. Wyse had brought back with him from Naplesnaturally led on to Italian subjects, and the general scepticism aboutthe Contessa di Faraglione had a staggering blow dealt it. 

"My sister, " began Mr. Wyse (and by a swift sucking motion, Diva drewinto her mouth several serpents of dependent macaroni in order to beable to listen better without this agitating distraction), "my sister, Ihope, will come to England this winter, and spend several weeks withme. " (Sensation. )

"And the Count?" asked Diva, having swallowed the serpents. 

"I fear not; Cecco--Francesco, you know--is a great stay-at-home. Ameliais looking forward very much to seeing Tilling. I shall insist on hermaking a long stay here, before she visits our relations at Whitchurch. "

Elizabeth found herself reserving judgment. She would believe in theContessa Faraglione--no one more firmly--when she saw her, and hadreasonable proofs of her identity. 

"Delightful!" she said, abandoning with regret the fruitless pursuitwith a fork of the few last serpents that writhed on her plate. "What anaddition to our society! We shall all do our best to spoil her, Mr. Wyse. When do you expect her?"

"Early in December. You must be very kind to her, dear ladies. She is aninsatiable bridge-player. She has heard much of the great players shewill meet here. "

That decided Mrs. Poppit. She would join the correspondence classconducted by "Little Slam, " in "Cosy Corner. " Little Slam, for the sumof two guineas, payable in advance, engaged to make first-class playersof anyone with normal intelligence. Diva's mind flew off to the subjectof dress, and the thought of the awful tragedy concerning the tea-gownof kingfisher-blue, combined with the endive salad, gave a wry twist toher mouth for a moment. 

"I, as you know, " continued Mr. Wyse, "am no hand at bridge. "

"Oh, Mr. Wyse, you play beautifully, " interpolated Elizabeth. 

"Too flattering of you, Miss Mapp. But Amelia and Cecco do not agreewith you. I am never allowed to play when I am at the Villa Faraglione, unless a table cannot be made up without me. But I shall look forward toseeing many well-contested games. "

The quails and the figs had come from Capri, and Miss Mapp, greedilydevouring each in turn, was so much incensed by the information that shehad elicited about them, that, though she joined in the generalLobgesang, she was tempted to inquire whether the ice had not beenbrought from the South Pole by some Antarctic expedition. Her mind wasnot, like poor Diva's, taken up with obstinate questionings about thekingfisher-blue tea-gown, for she had already determined what she wasgoing to do about it. Naturally it was impossible to contemplate freshencounters like that of last night, but another gown, crimson-lake, thecolour of Mrs. Trout's toilet for the second evening of the Duke ofHampshire's visit, as Vogue informed her, had completely annihilatedNewport with its splendour. She had already consulted Miss Greele aboutit, who said that if the kingfisher-blue was bleached first the dye ofcrimson-lake would be brilliant and pure. .. . The thought of that, andthe fact that Miss Greele's lips were professionally sealed, made herable to take Diva's arm as they strolled about the garden afterwards. The way in which both Diva and Susan had made up to Mr. Wyse duringlunch was really very shocking, though it did not surprise Miss Mapp, but she supposed their heads had been turned by the prospect of playingbridge with a countess. Luckily she expected nothing better of either ofthem, so their conduct was in no way a blow or a disappointment to her. 

This companionship with Diva was rather prolonged, for the adhesiveSusan, staggering about in her sables, clung close to their host andsimulated a clumsy interest in chrysanthemums; and whatever the othertwo did, manoeuvred herself into a strong position between them and Mr. Wyse, from which, operating on interior lines, she could cut off eitherassailant. More depressing yet (and throwing a sad new light on hischaracter), Mr. Wyse seemed to appreciate rather than resent theappropriation of himself, and instead of making a sortie through thebeleaguering sables, would beg Diva and Elizabeth, who were so fond offuchsias and knew about them so well, to put their heads together overan afflicted bed of these flowers in quite another part of the garden, and tell him what was the best treatment for their anæmic condition. Pleasant and proper though it was to each of them that Mr. Wyse shouldpay so little attention to the other, it was bitter as the endive saladto both that he should tolerate, if not enjoy, the companionship whichthe forwardness of Susan forced on him, and while they absently staredat the fuchsias, the fire kindled, and Elizabeth spake with her tongue. 

"How very plain poor Susan looks to-day, " she said. "Such a colour, though to be sure I attribute that more to what she ate and drank thanto anything else. Crimson. Oh, those poor fuchsias! I think I shouldthrow them away. "

The common antagonism, Diva felt, had drawn her and Elizabeth into themost cordial of understandings. For the moment she felt nothing butenthusiastic sympathy with Elizabeth, in spite of her kingfisher-bluegown. .. . What on earth, in parenthesis, was she to do with hers? Shecould not give it to Janet: it was impossible to contemplate the idea ofJanet walking about the High Street in a tea-gown of kingfisher-bluejust in order to thwart Elizabeth. .. . 

"Mr. Wyse seems taken with her, " said Diva. "How he can! Rather a snob. M. B. E. She's always popping in here. Saw her yesterday going round thecorner of the street. "

"What time, dear?" asked Elizabeth, nosing the scent. 

"Middle of the morning. "

"And I saw her in the afternoon, " said Elizabeth. "That great lumberingRolls-Royce went tacking and skidding round the corner below mygarden-room. "

"Was she in it?" asked Diva. 

This appeared rather a slur on Elizabeth's reliability in observation. 

"No, darling, she was sitting on the top, " she said, taking the edge offthe sarcasm, in case Diva had not intended to be critical, by a littlelaugh. Diva drew the conclusion that Elizabeth had actually seen herinside. 

"Think it's serious?" she said. "Think he'll marry her?"

The idea of course, repellent and odious as it was, had occurred toElizabeth, so she instantly denied it. 

"Oh, you busy little match-maker, " she said brightly. "Such an ideanever entered my head. You shouldn't make such fun of dear Susan. Come, dear, I can't look at fuchsias any more. I must be getting home and mustsay good-bye--au reservoir, rather--to Mr. Wyse, if Susan will allow meto get a word in edgeways. "

Susan seemed delighted to let Miss Mapp get this particular word inedgewise, and after a little speech from Mr. Wyse, in which he said thathe would not dream of allowing them to go yet, and immediatelyafterwards shook hands warmly with them both, hoping that the reservoirwould be a very small one, the two were forced to leave the artful Susanin possession of the field. .. . 

It all looked rather black. Miss Mapp's vivid imagination altogetherfailed to picture what Tilling would be like if Susan succeeded inbecoming Mrs. Wyse and the sister-in-law of a countess, and she sat downin her garden-room and closed her eyes for a moment, in order toconcentrate her power of figuring the situation. What dreadful peoplethese climbers were! How swiftly they swarmed up the social ladder withtheir Rolls-Royces and their red-currant fool, and their sables! A fewweeks ago she herself had never asked Susan into her house, while thevery first time she came she unloosed the sluices of the store-cupboard, and now, owing to the necessity of getting her aid in stopping thatmischievous rumour, which she herself had been so careful to set onfoot, regarding the cause of the duel, Miss Mapp had been positivelyobliged to flatter and to "Susan" her. And if Diva's awful surmiseproved to be well-founded, Susan would be in a position to patronizethem all, and talk about counts and countesses with the same air ofunconcern as Mr. Wyse. She would be bidden to the Villa Faraglione, shewould play bridge with Cecco and Amelia, she would visit the Wyses ofWhitchurch. .. . 

What was to be done? She might head another movement to put Mr. Wyse inhis proper place; this, if successful, would have the agreeable resultof pulling down Susan a rung or two should she carry out her design. Butthe failure of the last attempt and Mr. Wyse's eminence did not arguewell for any further manoeuvre of the kind. Or should she poison Mr. Wyse's mind with regard to Susan?. .. Or was she herself causelesslyagitated?

Or----

Curiosity rushed like a devastating tornado across Miss Mapp's mind, rooting up all other growths, buffeting her with the necessity ofknowing what the two whom she had been forced to leave in the gardenwere doing now, and snatching up her opera-glasses she glided upstairs, and let herself out through the trap-door on to the roof. She did notremember if it was possible to see Mr. Wyse's garden or any part of itfrom that watch-tower, but there was a chance. .. . 

Not a glimpse of it was visible. It lay quite hidden behind thered-brick wall which bounded it, and not a chrysanthemum or a fuchsiacould she see. But her blood froze as, without putting the glasses down, she ran her eye over such part of the house-wall as rose above theobstruction. In his drawing-room window on the first floor were seatedtwo figures. Susan had taken her sables off: it was as if she intendedremaining there for ever, or at least for tea. .. . 

CHAPTER VIII

The hippopotamus quarrel over their whisky between Major Flint andCaptain Puffin, which culminated in the challenge and all the shiningsequel, had had the excellent effect of making the united services moreunited than ever. They both knew that, had they not severally run awayfrom the encounter, and, so providentially, met at the station, veryserious consequences might have ensued. Had not both but only one ofthem been averse from taking or risking life, the other would surelyhave remained in Tilling, and spread disastrous reports about thebravery of the refugee; while if neither of them had had scruples on thesacredness of human existence there might have been one if not twocorpses lying on the shining sands. Naturally the fact that they bothhad taken the very earliest opportunity of averting an encounter byflight, made it improbable that any future quarrel would be proceededwith to violent extremes, but it was much safer to run no risks, and notlet verbal disagreements rise to hippopotamus-pitch again. Consequentlywhen there was any real danger of such savagery as was implied insending challenges, they hastened, by mutual concessions, to climb downfrom these perilous places, where loss of balance might possibly occur. For which of them could be absolutely certain that next time the otherof them might not be more courageous?. .. 

They were coming up from the tram-station one November evening, bothfizzing and fuming a good deal, and the Major was extremely lame, lamerthan Puffin. The rattle of the tram had made argument impossible duringthe transit from the links, but they had both in this enforced silencethought of several smart repartees, supposing that the other made therequisite remarks to call them out, and on arrival at the Tillingstation they went on at precisely the same point at which they hadbroken off on starting from the station by the links. 

"Well, I hope I can take a beating in as English a spirit as anybody, "said the Major. 

This was lucky for Captain Puffin: he had thought it likely that hewould say just that, and had got a stinger for him. 

"And it worries you to find that your hopes are doomed todisappointment, " he swiftly said. 

Major Flint stepped in a puddle which cooled his foot but not histemper. 

"Most offensive remark, " he said. "I wasn't called Sporting Benjy in theregiment for nothing. But never mind that. A worm-cast----"

"It wasn't a worm-cast, " said Puffin. "It was sheep's dung!"

Luck had veered here: the Major had felt sure that Puffin wouldreiterate that utterly untrue contention. 

"I can't pretend to be such a specialist as you in those matters, " hesaid, "but you must allow me sufficient power of observation to know aworm-cast when I see it. It was a worm-cast, sir, a cast of a worm, andyou had no right to remove it. If you will do me the favour to consultthe rules of golf----?"

"Oh, I grant you that you are more a specialist in the rules of golf, Major, than in the practice of it, " said Puffin brightly. 

Suddenly it struck Sporting Benjy that the red signals of danger dancedbefore his eyes, and though the odious Puffin had scored twice to hisonce, he called up all his powers of self-control, for if his friend wasanything like as exasperated as himself, the breeze of disagreementmight develop into a hurricane. At the moment he was passing through aswing-gate which led to a short cut back to the town, but before hecould take hold of himself he had slammed it back in his fury, hittingPuffin, who was following him, on the knee. Then he remembered he was asporting Christian gentleman, and no duellist. 

"I'm sure I beg your pardon, my dear fellow, " he said, with the utmostsolicitude. "Uncommonly stupid of me. The gate flew out of my hand. Ihope I didn't hurt you. "

Puffin had just come to the same conclusion as Major Flint: magnanimitywas better than early trains, and ever so much better than bullets. Indeed there was no comparison. .. . 

"Not hurt a bit, thank you, Major, " he said, wincing with the shrewdnessof the blow, silently cursing his friend for what he felt sure was noaccident, and limping with both legs. "It didn't touch me. Ha! What abrilliant sunset. The town looks amazingly picturesque. "

"It does indeed, " said the Major. "Fine subject for Miss Mapp. "

Puffin shuffled alongside. 

"There's still a lot of talk going on in the town, " he said, "about thatduel of ours. Those fairies of yours are all agog to know what it wasabout. I am sure they all think that there was a lady in the case. Justlike the vanity of the sex. If two men have a quarrel, they think itmust be because of their silly faces. "

Ordinarily the Major's gallantry would have resented this view, but thereconciliation with Puffin was too recent to risk just at present. 

"Poor little devils, " he said. "It makes an excitement for them. Iwonder who they think it is. It would puzzle me to name a woman inTilling worth catching an early train for. "

"There are several who'd be surprised to hear you say that, Major, " saidPuffin archly. 

"Well, well, " said the other, strutting and swelling, and walkingwithout a sign of lameness. .. . 

They had come to where their houses stood opposite each other on thesteep cobbled street, fronted at its top end by Miss Mapp's garden-room. She happened to be standing in the window, and the Major made a greatflourish of his cap, and laid his hand on his heart. 

"And there's one of them, " said Puffin, as Miss Mapp acknowledged theseflorid salutations with a wave of her hand, and tripped away from thewindow. 

"Poking your fun at me, " said the Major. "Perhaps she was the cause ofour quarrel, hey? Well, I'll step across, shall I, about half-past nine, and bring my diaries with me?"

"I'll expect you. You'll find me at my Roman roads. "

The humour of this joke never staled, and they parted with hoots andguffaws of laughter. 

It must not be supposed that duelling, puzzles over the portmanteau, orthe machinations of Susan had put out of Miss Mapp's head her amiableinterest in the hour at which Major Benjy went to bed. For some time shehad been content to believe, on direct information from him, that hewent to bed early and worked at his diaries on alternate evenings, butmaturer consideration had led her to wonder whether he was being quiteas truthful as a gallant soldier should be. For though (on alternateevenings) his house would be quite dark by half-past nine, it was notfor twelve hours or more afterwards that he could be heard qui-hi-ingfor his breakfast, and unless he was in some incipient stage ofsleeping-sickness, such hours provided more than ample slumber for agrowing child, and might be considered excessive for a middle-aged man. She had a mass of evidence to show that on the other set of alternatenights his diaries (which must, in parenthesis, be of extraordinaryfullness) occupied him into the small hours, and to go to bed athalf-past nine on one night and after one o'clock on the next implied acomplicated kind of regularity which cried aloud for elucidation. If hehad only breakfasted early on the mornings after he had gone to bedearly, she might have allowed herself to be weakly credulous, but henever qui-hied earlier than half-past nine, and she could not but thinkthat to believe blindly in such habits would be a triumph not for faithbut for foolishness. "People, " said Miss Mapp to herself, as herattention refused to concentrate on the evening paper, "don't do it. Inever heard of a similar case. "

She had been spending the evening alone, and even the conviction thather cold apple tart had suffered diminution by at least a slice, sinceshe had so much enjoyed it hot at lunch, failed to occupy her mind forlong, for this matter had presented itself with a clamouring insistencethat drowned all other voices. She had tried, when, at the conclusion ofher supper, she had gone back to the garden-room, to immerse herself ina book, in an evening paper, in the portmanteau problem, in a jig-sawpuzzle, and in Patience, but none of these supplied the stimulus to leadher mind away from Major Benjy's evenings, or the narcotic to dull herunslumbering desire to solve a problem that was rapidly becoming one ofthe greater mysteries. 

Her radiator made a seat in the window agreeably warm, and a chink inthe curtains gave her a view of the Major's lighted window. Even as shelooked, the illumination was extinguished. She had expected this, as hehad been at his diaries late--quite naughtily late--the evening before, so this would be a night of infant slumber for twelve hours or so. 

Even as she looked, a chink of light came from his front door, whichimmediately enlarged itself into a full oblong. Then it went completelyout. "He has opened the door, and has put out the hall-light, " whisperedMiss Mapp to herself. .. . "He has gone out and shut the door. .. . (Perhapshe is going to post a letter. ) . .. He has gone into Captain Puffin'shouse without knocking. So he is expected. "

Miss Mapp did not at once guess that she held in her hand the key to themystery. It was certainly Major Benjy's night for going to bed early. .. . Then a fierce illumination beat on her brain. Had she not, soprovidentially, actually observed the Major cross the road, unmistakable in the lamplight, and had she only looked out of her windowafter the light in his was quenched, she would surely have told herselfthat good Major Benjy had gone to bed. But good Major Benjy, on ocularevidence, she now knew to have done nothing of the kind: he had goneacross to see Captain Puffin. .. . He was not good. 

She grasped the situation in its hideous entirety. She had been deceivedand hoodwinked. Major Benjy never went to bed early at all: on alternatenights he went and sat with Captain Puffin. And Captain Puffin, shecould not but tell herself, sat up on the other set of alternate nightswith the Major, for it had not escaped her observation that when theMajor seemed to be sitting up, the Captain seemed to have gone to bed. Instantly, with strong conviction, she suspected orgies. It remained tobe seen (and she would remain to see it) to what hour these orgies werekept up. 

About eleven o'clock a little mist had begun to form in the street, obscuring the complete clarity of her view, but through it there stillshone the light from behind Captain Puffin's red blind, and the mist wasnot so thick as to be able wholly to obscure the figure of Major Flintwhen he should pass below the gas lamp again into his house. But no suchfigure passed. Did he then work at his diaries every evening? And whatprice, to put it vulgarly, Roman roads?

Every moment her sense of being deceived grew blacker, and every momenther curiosity as to what they were doing became more unbearable. After aspasm of tactical thought she glided back into her house from thegarden-room, and, taking an envelope in her hand, so that she might, ifdetected, say that she was going down to the letter-box at the corner tocatch the early post, she unbolted her door and let herself out. Shecrossed the street and tip-toed along the pavement to where the redlight from Captain Puffin's window shone like a blurred danger-signalthrough the mist. 

From inside came a loud duet of familiar voices: sometimes they spokesingly, sometimes together. But she could not catch the words: theysounded blurred and indistinct, and she told herself that she was veryglad that she could not hear what they said, for that would have seemedlike eaves-dropping. The voices sounded angry. Was there another duelpending? And what was it about this time?

Quite suddenly, from so close at hand that she positively leaped off thepavement into the middle of the road, the door was thrown open and theduet, louder than ever, streamed out into the street. Major Benjybounced out on to the threshold, and stumbled down the two steps thatled from the door. 

"Tell you it was a worm-cast, " he bellowed. "Think I don't know aworm-cast when I see a worm-cast?"

Suddenly his tone changed: this was getting too near a quarrel. 

"Well, good-night, old fellow, " he said. "Jolly evening. "

He turned and saw, veiled and indistinct in the mist, the female figurein the roadway. Undying coquetry, as Mr. Stevenson so finely remarked, awoke, for the topic preceding the worm-cast had been "the sex. "

"Bless me, " he crowed, "if there isn't an unprotected lady all 'lonehere in the dark, and lost in the fog. 'Llow me to 'scort you home, madam. Lemme introduce myself and friend--Major Flint, that's me, and myfriend Captain Puffin. "

He put up his hand and whispered an aside to Miss Mapp: "Revolutionizedthe theory of navigation. "

Major Benjy was certainly rather gay and rather indistinct, but hispolite gallantry could not fail to be attractive. It was naughty of himto have said that he went to bed early on alternate nights, butreally. .. . Still, it might be better to slip away unrecognized, and, thinking it would be nice to scriggle by him and disappear in the mist, she made a tactical error in her scriggling, for she scriggled full intothe light that streamed from the open door where Captain Puffin wasstanding. 

He gave a shrill laugh. 

"Why, it's Miss Mapp, " he said in his high falsetto. "Blow me, if itisn't our mutual friend Miss Mapp. What a 'strordinary coincidence. "

Miss Mapp put on her most winning smile. To be dignified and at the sametime pleasant was the proper way to deal with this situation. Gentlemenoften had a glass of grog when they thought the ladies had goneupstairs. That was how, for the moment, she summed things up. 

"Good evening, " she said. "I was just going down to the pillar-box topost a letter, " and she exhibited her envelope. But it dropped out ofher hand, and the Major picked it up for her. 

"I'll post it for you, " he said very pleasantly. "Save you the trouble. Insist on it. Why, there's no stamp on it! Why, there's no address onit! I say, Puffie, here's a letter with no address on it. Forgotten theaddress, Miss Mapp? Think they'll remember it at the post office? Well, that's one of the mos' comic things I ever came across. An, an anonymousletter, eh?"

The night air began to have a most unfortunate effect on Puffin. Whenhe came out it would have been quite unfair to have described him asdrunk. He was no more than gay and ready to go to bed. Now he becameportentously solemn, as the cold mist began to do its deadly work. 

"A letter, " he said impressively, "without an address is an uncommonlydangerous thing. Hic! Can't tell into whose hands it may fall. I wouldsooner go 'bout with a loaded pistol than with a letter without anyaddress. Send it to the bank for safety. Send for the police. Follow myadvice and send for the p'lice. Police!"

Miss Mapp's penetrating mind instantly perceived that that dreadfulCaptain Puffin was drunk, and she promised herself that Tilling shouldring with the tale of his excesses to-morrow. But Major Benjy, whom, ifshe mistook not, Captain Puffin had been trying, with perhaps some smallsuccess, to lead astray, was a gallant gentleman still, and sheconceived the brilliant but madly mistaken idea of throwing herself onhis protection. 

"Major Benjy, " she said, "I will ask you to take me home. Captain Puffinhas had too much to drink----"

"Woz that?" asked Captain Puffin, with an air of great interest. 

Miss Mapp abandoned dignity and pleasantness, and lost her temper. 

"I said you were drunk, " she said with great distinctness. "Major Benjy, will you----"

Captain Puffin came carefully down the two steps from the door on to thepavement. 

"Look here, " he said, "this all needs 'splanation. You say I'm drunk, doyou? Well, I say you're drunk, going out like this in mill' of the nightto post letter with no 'dress on it. Shamed of yourself, mill'aged womangoing out in the mill' of the night in the mill' of Tilling. Veryshocking thing. What do you say, Major?"

Major Benjy drew himself up to his full height, and put on his hat inorder to take it off to Miss Mapp. 

"My fren' Cap'n Puffin, " he said, "is a man of strictly 'stemioushabits. Boys together. Very serious thing to call a man of my fren'scharacter drunk. If you call him drunk, why shouldn't he call you drunk?Can't take away man's character like that. "

"Abso----" began Captain Puffin. Then he stopped and pulled himselftogether. 

"Absolooly, " he said without a hitch. 

"Tilling shall hear of this to-morrow, " said Miss Mapp, shivering withrage and sea-mist. 

Captain Puffin came a step closer. 

"Now I'll tell you what it is, Miss Mapp, " he said. "If you dare to saythat I was drunk, Major and I, my fren' the Major and I will say youwere drunk. Perhaps you think my fren' the Major's drunk too. But sure'sI live, I'll say we were taking lil' walk in the moonlight and found youtrying to post a letter with no 'dress on it, and couldn't find the slitto put it in. But 'slong as you say nothing, I say nothing. Can't sayfairer than that. Liberal terms. Mutual Protection Society. Your lipssealed, our lips sealed. Strictly private. All trespassers will beprosecuted. By order. Hic!"

Miss Mapp felt that Major Benjy ought instantly to have challenged hisignoble friend to another duel for this insolent suggestion, but he didnothing of the kind, and his silence, which had some awful quality ofconsent about it, chilled her mind, even as the sea-mist, now thick andcold, made her certain that her nose was turning red. She still boiledwith rage, but her mind grew cold with odious apprehensions: she waslike an ice-pudding with scalding sauce. .. . There they all stood, veiledin vapours, and outlined by the red light that streamed from thestill-open door of the intoxicated Puffin, getting colder every moment. 

"Yessorno, " said Puffin, with chattering teeth. 

Bitter as it was to accept those outrageous terms, there really seemed, without the Major's support, to be no way out of it. 

"Yes, " said Miss Mapp. 

Puffin gave a loud crow. 

"The ayes have it, Major, " he said. "So we're all frens again. Goonighteverybody. "

 * * * * *

Miss Mapp let herself into her house in an agony of mortification. Shecould scarcely realize that her little expedition, undertaken with somuch ardent and earnest curiosity only a quarter of an hour ago, hadended in so deplorable a surfeit of sensation. She had gone out inobedience to an innocent and, indeed, laudable desire to ascertain howMajor Benjy spent those evenings on which he had deceived her intoimagining that, owing to her influence, he had gone ever so early tobed, only to find that he sat up ever so late and that she was fetteredby a promise not to breathe to a soul a single word about the depravityof Captain Puffin, on pain of being herself accused out of the mouth oftwo witnesses of being equally depraved herself. More wounding yet wasthe part played by her Major Benjy in these odious transactions, and itwas only possible to conclude that he put a higher value on hisfellowship with his degraded friend than on chivalry itself. .. . And whatdid his silence imply? Probably it was a defensive one; he imagined thathe, too, would be included in the stories that Miss Mapp proposed tosow broadcast upon the fruitful fields of Tilling, and, indeed, when shecalled to mind his bellowing about worm-casts, his general instabilityof speech and equilibrium, she told herself that he had ample cause forsuch a supposition. He, when his lights were out, was abetting, assisting and perhaps joining Captain Puffin. When his window was alighton alternate nights she made no doubt now that Captain Puffin wasperforming a similar rôle. This had been going on for weeks under hervery nose, without her having the smallest suspicion of it. 

Humiliated by all that had happened, and flattened in her own estimationby the sense of her blindness, she penetrated to the kitchen and lit agas-ring to make herself some hot cocoa, which would at least comforther physical chatterings. There was a letter for Withers, slippedsideways into its envelope, on the kitchen table, and mechanically sheopened and read it by the bluish flame of the burner. She had alwayssuspected Withers of having a young man, and here was proof of it. Butthat he should be Mr. Hopkins of the fish-shop!

There is known to medical science a pleasant device known as acounter-irritant. If the patient has an aching and rheumatic joint he iscounselled to put some hot burning application on the skin, which smartsso agonizingly that the ache is quite extinguished. Metaphorically, Mr. Hopkins was thermogene to Miss Mapp's outraged and aching consciousness, and the smart occasioned by the knowledge that Withers must haveencouraged Mr. Hopkins (else he could scarcely have written a letter sofamiliar and amorous), and thus be contemplating matrimony, relieved theaching humiliation of all that had happened in the sea-mist. It shed anew and lurid light on Withers, it made her mistress feel that she hadnourished a serpent in her bosom, to think that Withers wascontemplating so odious an act of selfishness as matrimony. It would benecessary to find a new parlour-maid, and all the trouble connected withthat would not nearly be compensated for by being able to buy fish at alower rate. That was the least that Withers could do for her, to insistthat Mr. Hopkins should let her have dabs and plaice exceptionallycheap. And ought she to tell Withers that she had seen Mr. Hopkins . .. No, that was impossible: she must write it, if she decided (for Withers'sake) to make this fell communication. 

Miss Mapp turned and tossed on her uneasy bed, and her mind went back tothe Major and the Captain and that fiasco in the fog. Of course she wasperfectly at liberty (having made her promise under practicalcompulsion) to tell everybody in Tilling what had occurred, trusting tothe chivalry of the men not to carry out their counter threat, butlooking at the matter quite dispassionately, she did not think it wouldbe wise to trust too much to chivalry. Still, even if they did carry outtheir unmanly menace, nobody would seriously believe that she had beendrunk. But they might make a very disagreeable joke of pretending to doso, and, in a word, the prospect frightened her. Whatever Tilling did ordid not believe, a residuum of ridicule would assuredly cling to her, and her reputation of having perhaps been the cause of the quarrelwhich, so happily did not end in a duel, would be lost for ever. Eviewould squeak, quaint Irene would certainly burst into hoarse laughterwhen she heard the story. It was very inconvenient that honesty shouldbe the best policy. 

Her brain still violently active switched off for a moment on to theeternal problem of the portmanteau. Why, so she asked herself for thehundredth time, if the portmanteau contained the fatal apparatus ofduelling, did not the combatants accompany it? And if (the only otheralternative) it did not----?

An idea so luminous flashed across her brain that she almost thought theroom had leaped into light. The challenge distinctly said that MajorBenjy's seconds would wait upon Captain Puffin in the course of themorning. With what object then could the former have gone down to thestation to catch the early train? There could be but one object, namelyto get away as quickly as possible from the dangerous vicinity of thechallenged Captain. And why did Captain Puffin leave that note on histable to say that he was suddenly called away, except in order to escapefrom the ferocious neighbourhood of his challenger?

"The cowards!" ejaculated Miss Mapp. "They both ran away from eachother! How blind I've been!"

The veil was rent. She perceived how, carried away with the notion thata duel was to be fought among the sand-dunes, Tilling had quiteoverlooked the significance of the early train. She felt sure that shehad solved everything now, and gave herself up to a rapturousconsideration of what use she would make of the precious solution. Allregrets for the impossibility of ruining the character of Captain Puffinwith regard to intoxicants were gone, for she had an even deadlierblacking to hand. No faintest hesitation at ruining the reputation ofMajor Benjy as well crossed her mind; she gloried in it, for he had notonly caused her to deceive herself about the early hours on alternatenights, but by his infamous willingness to back up Captain Puffin'sbargain, he had shown himself imperviously waterproof to all chivalrousimpulses. For weeks now the sorry pair of them had enjoyed the spurioussplendours of being men of blood and valour, when all the time they hadput themselves to all sorts of inconvenience in catching early trainsand packing bags by candle-light in order to escape the hot impulses ofquarrel that, as she saw now, were probably derived from drainedwhisky-bottles. That mysterious holloaing about worm-casts was just suchanother disagreement. And, crowning rapture of all, her own position ascause of the projected duel was quite unassailed. Owing to her silenceabout drink, no one would suspect a mere drunken brawl: she would stillfigure as heroine, though the heroes were terribly dismantled. To besure, it would have been better if their ardour about her had been suchthat one of them, at the least, had been prepared to face the ordeal, that they had not both preferred flight, but even without that she hadmuch to be thankful for. "It will serve them both, " said Miss Mapp(interrupted by a sneeze, for she had been sitting up in bed for quite aconsiderable time), "right. "

To one of Miss Mapp's experience, the first step of her new anddelightful strategic campaign was obvious, and she spent hardly any timeat all in the window of her garden-room after breakfast next morning, but set out with her shopping-basket at an unusually early hour. Sheshuddered as she passed between the front doors of her miscreantneighbours, for the chill of last night's mist and its dreadful memoriesstill lingered there, but her present errand warmed her soul even as thetepid November day comforted her body. No sign of life was at presentevident in those bibulous abodes, no qui-his had indicated breakfast, and she put her utmost irony into the reflection that the UnitedServices slept late after their protracted industry last night overdiaries and Roman roads. By a natural revulsion, violent in proportionto the depth of her previous regard for Major Benjy, she hugged herselfmore closely on the prospect of exposing him than on that of exposingthe other. She had had daydreams about Major Benjy and the conversion ofthese into nightmares annealed her softness into the semblance of somered-hot stone, giving vengeance a concentrated sweetness as ofsaccharine contrasted with ordinary lump sugar. This sweetness was of sopowerful a quality that she momentarily forgot all about the contents ofWithers's letter on the kitchen table, and tripped across to Mr. Hopkins's with an oblivious smile for him. 

"Good morning, Mr. Hopkins, " she said. "I wonder if you've got a nicelittle dab for my dinner to-day? Yes? Will you send it up then, please?What a mild morning, like May!"

The opening move, of course, was to tell Diva about the revelation thathad burst on her the night before. Diva was incomparably the bestdisseminator of news: she walked so fast, and her telegraphic style wasso brisk and lucid. Her terse tongue, her revolving feet! Such a gossip!

"Diva darling, I had to look in a moment, " said Elizabeth, pecking heraffectionately on both cheeks. "Such a bit of news!"

"Oh, Contessa di Faradidleony, " said Diva sarcastically. "I heardyesterday. Journey put off. "

Miss Mapp just managed to stifle the excitement which would havebetrayed that this was news to her. 

"No, dear, not that, " she said. "I didn't suspect you of not knowingthat. Unfortunate though, isn't it, just when we were all beginning tobelieve that there was a Contessa di Faradidleony! What a sweet name!For my part I shall believe in her when I see her. Poor Mr. Wyse!"

"What's the news then?" asked Diva. 

"My dear, it all came upon me in a flash, " said Elizabeth. "It explainsthe portmanteau and the early train and the duel. "

Diva looked disappointed. She thought this was to be some solid piece ofnews, not one of Elizabeth's ideas only. 

"Drive ahead, " she said. 

"They ran away from each other, " said Elizabeth, mouthing her words asif speaking to a totally deaf person who understood lip-reading. "Nevermind the cause of the duel: that's another affair. But whatever thecause, " here she dropped her eyes, "the Major having sent the challengepacked his portmanteau. He ran away, dear Diva, and met Captain Puffinat the station running away too. "

"But did----" began Diva. 

"Yes, dear, the note on Captain Puffin's table to his housekeeper saidhe was called away suddenly. What called him away? Cowardice, dear! Howignoble it all is. And we've all been thinking how brave and wonderfulthey were. They fled from each other, and came back together and playedgolf. I never thought it was a game for men. The sand-dunes where theywere supposed to be fighting! They might lose a ball there, but thatwould be the utmost. Not a life. Poor Padre! Going out there to stop aduel, and only finding a game of golf. But I understand the nature ofmen better now. What an eye-opener!"

Diva by this time was trundling away round the room, and longing to beoff in order to tell everybody. She could find no hole in Elizabeth'sarguments; it was founded as solidly as a Euclidean proposition. 

"Ever occurred to you that they drink?" she asked. "Believe in Romanroads and diaries? I don't. "

Miss Mapp bounded from her chair. Danger flags flapped and crimsoned inher face. What if Diva went flying round Tilling, suggesting that inaddition to being cowards those two men were drunkards? They would, assoon as any hint of the further exposure reached them, conclude that shehad set the idea on foot, and then----

"No, Diva darling, " she said, "don't dream of imagining such a thing. Sodangerous to hint anything of the sort. Cowards they may be, and indeedare, but never have I seen anything that leads me to suppose that theydrink. We must give them their due, and stick to what we know; we mustnot launch accusations wildly about other matters, just because we knowthey are cowards. A coward need not be a drunkard, thank God! It is allmiserable enough, as it is!"

Having averted this danger, Miss Mapp, with her radiant, excited face, seemed to be bearing all the misery very courageously, and as Diva couldno longer be restrained from starting on her morning round they plungedtogether into the maelstrom of the High Street, riding and whirling inits waters with the solution of the portmanteau and the early train forlife-buoy. Very little shopping was done that morning, for everypermutation and combination of Tilling society (with the exception, ofcourse, of the cowards) had to be formed on the pavement with a view tothe amplest possible discussion. Diva, as might have been expected, gaveproof of her accustomed perfidy before long, for she certainly gavethe Padre to understand that the chain of inductive reasoning was ofher own welding and Elizabeth had to hurry after him to correct thisgrabbing impression; but the discovery in itself was so great, thatsmall false notes like these could not spoil the glorious harmony. EvenMr. Wyse abandoned his usual neutrality with regard to social politicsand left his tall malacca cane in the chemist's, so keen was his gusto, on seeing Miss Mapp on the pavement outside, to glean any fresh detailof evidence. 

By eleven o'clock that morning, the two duellists were universally knownas "the cowards, " the Padre alone demurring, and being swampinglyoutvoted. He held (sticking up for his sex) that the Major had beenbrave enough to send a challenge (on whatever subject) to his friend, and had, though he subsequently failed to maintain that high level, shown courage of a high order, since, for all he knew, Captain Puffinmight have accepted it. Miss Mapp was spokesman for the mind of Tillingon this too indulgent judgment. 

"Dear Padre, " she said, "you are too generous altogether. They both ranaway: you can't get over that. Besides you must remember that, when theMajor sent the challenge, he knew Captain Puffin, oh so well, and quiteexpected he would run away----"

"Then why did he run away himself?" asked the Padre. 

This was rather puzzling for a moment, but Miss Mapp soon thought of theexplanation. 

"Oh, just to make sure, " she said, and Tilling applauded her readyirony. 

And then came the climax of sensationalism, when at about ten minutespast eleven the two cowards emerged into the High Street on their way tocatch the 11. 20 tram out to the links. The day threatened rain, andthey both carried bags which contained a change of clothes. Just roundthe corner of the High Street was the group which had applauded MissMapp's quickness, and the cowards were among the breakers. They glancedat each other, seeing that Miss Mapp was the most towering of thebreakers, but it was too late to retreat, and they made the usualsalutations. 

"Good morning, " said Diva, with her voice trembling. "Off to catch theearly train together--I mean the tram. "

"Good morning, Captain Puffin, " said Miss Mapp with extreme sweetness. "What a nice little travelling bag! Oh, and the Major's got one too!H'm!"

A certain dismay looked from Major Flint's eyes, Captain Puffin's mouthfell open, and he forgot to shut it. 

"Yes; change of clothes, " said the Major. "It looks a threateningmorning. "

"Very threatening, " said Miss Mapp. "I hope you will do nothing rash ordangerous. "

There was a moment's silence, and the two looked from one face toanother of this fell group. They all wore fixed, inexplicable smiles. 

"It will be pleasant among the sand-dunes, " said the Padre, and his wifegave a loud squeak. 

"Well, we shall be missing our tram, " said the Major. "Au--au reservoir, ladies. "

Nobody responded at all, and they hurried off down the street, theirbags bumping together very inconveniently. 

"Something's up, Major, " said Puffin, with true Tilling perspicacity, assoon as they had got out of hearing. .. . 

 * * * * *

Precisely at the same moment Miss Mapp gave a little cooing laugh. 

"Now I must run and do my bittie shopping, Padre, " she said, and kissedher hand all round. .. . The curtain had to come down for a little whileon so dramatic a situation. Any discussion, just then, would be ananti-climax. 

CHAPTER IX

Captain Puffin found but a sombre diarist when he came over to study hisRoman roads with Major Flint that evening, and indeed he was a sombreantiquarian himself. They had pondered a good deal during the day overtheir strange reception in the High Street that morning and therecondite allusions to bags, sand-dunes and early trains, and the morethey pondered the more probable it became that not only was somethingup, but, as regards the duel, everything was up. For weeks now they hadbeen regarded by the ladies of Tilling with something approachingveneration, but there seemed singularly little veneration at the back ofthe comments this morning. Following so closely on the encounter withMiss Mapp last night, this irreverent attitude was probably due to someatheistical manoeuvre of hers. Such, at least, was the Major's view, andwhen he held a view he usually stated it, did Sporting Benjy. 

"We've got you to thank for this, Puffin, " he said. "Upon my soul, I wasashamed of you for saying what you did to Miss Mapp last night. Utterabsence of any chivalrous feeling hinting that if she said you weredrunk you would say she was. She was as sober and lucid last night asshe was this morning. And she was devilish lucid, to my mind, thismorning. "

"Pity you didn't take her part last night, " said Puffin. "You thoughtthat was a very ingenious idea of mine to make her hold her tongue. "

"There are finer things in this world, sir, than ingenuity, " said theMajor. "What your ingenuity has led to is this public ridicule. You maynot mind that yourself--you may be used to it--but a man should regardthe consequences of his act on others. .. . My status in Tilling iscompletely changed. Changed for the worse, sir. "

Puffin emitted his fluty, disagreeable laugh. 

"If your status in Tilling depended on a reputation for bloodthirstybravery, " he said, "the sooner it was changed the better. We're in thesame boat: I don't say I like the boat, but there we are. Have a drink, and you'll feel better. Never mind your status. "

"I've a good mind never to have a drink again, " said the Major, pouringhimself out one of his stiff little glasses, "if a drink leads to thissort of thing. "

"But it didn't, " said Puffin. "How it all got out, I can't say, nor forthat matter can you. If it hadn't been for me last night, it would havebeen all over Tilling that you and I were tipsy as well. That wouldn'thave improved our status that I can see. "

"It was in consequence of what you said to Mapp----" began the Major. 

"But, good Lord, where's the connection?" asked Puffin. "Produce theconnection! Let's have a look at the connection! There ain't anyconnection! Duelling wasn't as much as mentioned last night. "

Major Flint pondered this in gloomy, sipping silence. 

"Bridge-party at Mrs. Poppit's the day after to-morrow, " he said. "Idon't feel as if I could face it. Suppose they all go on makingallusions to duelling and early trains and that? I shan't be able tokeep my mind on the cards for fear of it. More than a sensitive manought to be asked to bear. "

Puffin made a noise that sounded rather like "Fudge!"

"Your pardon?" said the Major haughtily. 

"Granted by all means, " said Puffin. "But I don't see what you're insuch a taking about. We're no worse off than we were before we got areputation for being such fire-eaters. Being fire-eaters is a wash-out, that's all. Pleasant while it lasted, and now we're as we were. "

"But we're not, " said the Major. "We're detected frauds! That's not thesame as being a fraud; far from it. And who's going to rub it in, myfriend? Who's been rubbing away for all she's worth? Miss Mapp, to whom, if I may say so without offence, you behaved like a cur last night. "

"And another cur stood by and wagged his tail, " retorted Puffin. 

This was about as far as it was safe to go, and Puffin hastened to saysomething pleasant about the hearthrug, to which his friend had asuitable rejoinder. But after the affair last night, and the darksayings in the High Street this morning, there was little content orcosiness about the session. Puffin's brazen optimism was but a tinklingcymbal, and the Major did not feel like tinkling at all. He but snortedand glowered, revolving in his mind how to square Miss Mapp. Allied withher, if she could but be won over, he felt he could face the rest ofTilling with indifference, for hers would be the most penetratingshafts, the most stinging pleasantries. He had more too, so hereflected, to lose than Puffin, for till the affair of the duel theother had never been credited with deeds of bloodthirsty gallantry, whereas he had enjoyed no end of a reputation in amorous and honourableaffairs. Marriage no doubt would settle it satisfactorily, but thisbachelor life, with plenty of golf and diaries, was not to be lightlyexchanged for the unknown. Short of that . .. 

A light broke, and he got to his feet, following the gleam and walkingvery lame out of general discomfiture. 

"Tell you what it is, Puffin, " he said. "You and I, particularly you, owe that estimable lady a very profound apology for what happened lastnight. You ought to withdraw every word you said, and I every word thatI didn't say. "

"Can't be done, " said Puffin. "That would be giving up my hold over yourlady friend. We should be known as drunkards all over the shop beforeyou could say winkie. Worse off than before. "

"Not a bit of it. If it's Miss Mapp, and I'm sure it is, who has beenspreading these--these damaging rumours about our duel, it's becauseshe's outraged and offended, quite rightly, at your conduct to her lastnight. Mine, too, if you like. Ample apology, sir, that's the ticket. "

"Dog-ticket, " said Puffin. "No thanks. "

"Very objectionable expression, " said Major Flint. "But you shall do asyou like. And so, with your permission, shall I. I shall apologize formy share in that sorry performance, in which, thank God, I only played aminor rôle. That's my view, and if you don't like it, you may dislikeit. "

Puffin yawned. 

"Mapp's a cat, " he said. "Stroke a cat and you'll get scratched. Shy abrick at a cat, and she'll spit at you and skedaddle. You're poorcompany to-night, Major, with all these qualms. "

"Then, sir, you can relieve yourself of my company, " said the Major, "bygoing home. "

"Just what I was about to do. Good night, old boy. Same time to-morrowfor the tram, if you're not too badly mauled. "

Miss Mapp, sitting by the hot-water pipes in the garden-room, looked outnot long after to see what the night was like. Though it was not yethalf-past ten the cowards' sitting-rooms were both dark, and shewondered what precisely that meant. There was no bridge-party anywherethat night, and apparently there were no diaries or Roman roads either. Why this sober and chastened darkness?. .. 

The Major qui-hied for his breakfast at an unusually early hour nextmorning, for the courage of this resolve to placate, if possible, thehostility of Miss Mapp had not, like that of the challenge, oozed outduring the night. He had dressed himself in his frock-coat, seen last onthe occasion when the Prince of Wales proved not to have come by the6. 37, and no female breast however furious could fail to recognize thecompliment of such a formality. Dressed thus, with top-hat andpatent-leather boots, he was clearly observed from the garden-room toemerge into the street just when Captain Puffin's hand thrust the spongeon to the window-sill of his bath-room. Probably he too had observedthis apparition, for his fingers prematurely loosed hold of the sponge, and it bounded into the street. Wild surmises flashed into Miss Mapp'sactive brain, the most likely of which was that Major Benjy was going topropose to Mrs. Poppit, for if he had been going up to London for someceremonial occasion, he would be walking down the street instead of upit. And then she saw his agitated finger press the electric bell of herown door. So he was not on his way to propose to Mrs. Poppit. .. . 

She slid from the room and hurried across the few steps of garden tothe house just in time to intercept Withers though not with any idea ofsaying that she was out. Then Withers, according to instructions, waitedtill Miss Mapp had tiptoed upstairs, and conducted the Major to thegarden-room, promising that she would "tell" her mistress. This wasunnecessary, as her mistress knew. The Major pressed a half-crown intoher astonished hand, thinking it was a florin. He couldn't preciselyaccount for that impulse, but general propitiation was at the bottom ofit. 

Miss Mapp meantime had sat down on her bed, and firmly rejected the ideathat his call had anything to do with marriage. During all these yearsof friendliness he had not got so far as that, and, whatever the futuremight hold, it was not likely that he would begin now at this momentwhen she was so properly punishing him for his unchivalrous behaviour. But what could the frock-coat mean? (There was Captain Puffin's servantpicking up the sponge. She hoped it was covered with mud. ) It would be avery just continuation of his punishment to tell Withers she would notsee him, but the punishment which that would entail on herself would bemore than she could bear, for she would not know a moment's peace whileshe was ignorant of the nature of his errand. Could he be on his way tothe Padre's to challenge him for that very stinging allusion tosand-dunes yesterday, and was he come to give her fair warning, so thatshe might stop a duel? It did not seem likely. Unable to bear thesuspense any longer, she adjusted her face in the glass to an expressionof frozen dignity and threw over her shoulders the cloak trimmed withblue in which, on the occasion of the Prince's visit, she had sat downin the middle of the road. That matched the Major's frock-coat. 

She hummed a little song as she mounted the few steps to thegarden-room, and stopped just after she had opened the door. She did notoffer to shake hands. 

"You wish to see me, Major Flint?" she said, in such a voice as icebergsmight be supposed to use when passing each other by night in the Arcticseas. 

Major Flint certainly looked as if he hated seeing her, instead ofwishing it, for he backed into a corner of the room and dropped his hat. 

"Good morning, Miss Mapp, " he said. "Very good of you. I--I called. "

He clearly had a difficulty in saying what he had come to say, but if hethought that she was proposing to give him the smallest assistance, hewas in error. 

"Yes, you called, " said she. "Pray be seated. "

He did so; she stood; he got up again. 

"I called, " said the Major, "I called to express my very deep regret atmy share, or, rather, that I did not take a more active share--Iallowed, in fact, a friend of mine to speak to you in a manner that didequal discredit----"

Miss Mapp put her head on one side, as if trying to recollect sometrivial and unimportant occurrence. 

"Yes?" she said. "What was that?"

"Captain Puffin, " began the Major. 

Then Miss Mapp remembered it all. 

"I hope, Major Flint, " she said, "that you will not find it necessary tomention Captain Puffin's name to me. I wish him nothing but well, but heand his are no concern of mine. I have the charity to suppose that hewas quite drunk on the occasion to which I imagine you allude. Intoxication alone could excuse what he said. Let us leave CaptainPuffin out of whatever you have come to say to me. "

This was adroit; it compelled the Major to begin all over again. 

"I come entirely on my own account, " he began. 

"I understand, " said Miss Mapp, instantly bringing Captain Puffin inagain. "Captain Puffin, now I presume sober, has no regret for what hesaid when drunk. I quite see, and I expected no more and no less fromhim. Yes. I am afraid I interrupted you. "

Major Flint threw his friend overboard like ballast from a bumpingballoon. 

"I speak for myself, " he said. "I behaved, Miss Mapp, like a--ha--worm. Defenceless lady, insolent fellow drunk--I allude to Captain P----. I'mvery sorry for my part in it. "

Up till this moment Miss Mapp had not made up her mind whether sheintended to forgive him or not; but here she saw how crushing a penaltyshe might be able to inflict on Puffin if she forgave the erring andpossibly truly repentant Major. He had already spoken strongly about hisfriend's offence, and she could render life supremely nasty for themboth--particularly Puffin--if she made the Major agree that he couldnot, if truly sorry, hold further intercourse with him. There would beno more golf, no more diaries. Besides, if she was observed to befriendly with the Major again and to cut Captain Puffin, a very naturalinterpretation would be that she had learned that in the originalquarrel the Major had been defending her from some odious tongue to theextent of a challenge, even though he subsequently ran away. Tilling wasquite clever enough to make that inference without any suggestion fromher. .. . But if she forgave neither of them, they would probably go onboozing and golfing together, and saying quite dreadful things abouther, and not care very much whether she forgave them or not. Her mindwas made up, and she gave a wan smile. 

"Oh, Major Flint, " she said, "it hurt me so dreadfully that you shouldhave stood by and heard that Man--if he is a man--say those awful thingsto me and not take my side. It made me feel so lonely. I had always beensuch good friends with you, and then you turned your back on me likethat. I didn't know what I had done to deserve it. I lay awake ever solong. "

This was affecting, and he violently rubbed the nap of his hat the wrongway. .. . Then Miss Mapp broke into her sunniest smile. 

"Oh, I'm so glad you came to say you were sorry!" she said. "Dear MajorBenjy, we're quite friends again. "

She dabbed her handkerchief on her eyes. 

"So foolish of me!" she said. "Now sit down in my most comfortable chairand have a cigarette. "

Major Flint made a peck at the hand she extended to him, and cleared histhroat to indicate emotion. It really was a great relief to think thatshe would not make awful allusions to duels in the middle ofbridge-parties. 

"And since you feel as you do about Captain Puffin, " she said, "ofcourse, you won't see anything more of him. You and I are quite one, aren't we, about that? You have dissociated yourself from himcompletely. The fact of your being sorry does that. "

It was quite clear to the Major that this condition was involved in hisforgiveness, though that fact, so obvious to Miss Mapp, had not occurredto him before. Still, he had to accept it, or go unhouseled again. Hecould explain to Puffin, under cover of night, or perhaps indeaf-and-dumb alphabet from his window. .. . 

"Infamous, unforgivable behaviour!" he said. "Pah!"

"So glad you feel that, " said Miss Mapp, smiling till he saw the entirerow of her fine teeth. "And oh, may I say one little thing more? I feelthis: I feel that the dreadful shock to me of being insulted like thatwas quite a lovely little blessing in disguise, now that the effect hasbeen to put an end to your intimacy with him. I never liked it, and Iliked it less than ever the other night. He's not a fit friend for you. Oh, I'm so thankful!"

Major Flint saw that for the present he was irrevocably committed tothis clause in the treaty of peace. He could not face seeing it torn upagain, as it certainly would be, if he failed to accept it in itsentirety, nor could he imagine himself leaving the room with a renewalof hostilities. He would lose his game of golf to-day as it was, forapart from the fact that he would scarcely have time to change hisclothes (the idea of playing golf in a frock-coat and top-hat wasinconceivable) and catch the 11. 20 tram, he could not be seen inPuffin's company at all. And, indeed, in the future, unless Puffin couldbe induced to apologize and Miss Mapp to forgive, he saw, if he was toplay golf at all with his friend, that endless deceptions andsubterfuges were necessary in order to escape detection. One of themwould have to set out ten minutes before the other, and walk to the tramby some unusual and circuitous route; they would have to play in aclandestine and furtive manner, parting company before they got to theclub-house; disguises might be needful; there was a peck of difficultiesahead. But he would have to go into these later; at present he must beimmersed in the rapture of his forgiveness. 

"Most generous of you, Miss Elizabeth, " he said. "As for that--well, Iwon't allude to him again. "

Miss Mapp gave a happy little laugh, and having made a further plan, switched away from the subject of captains and insults with alacrity. 

"Look!" she said. "I found these little rosebuds in flower still, thoughit is the end of November. Such brave little darlings, aren't they? Onefor your button-hole, Major Benjy? And then I must do my littleshoppings or Withers will scold me--Withers is so severe with me, keepsme in such order! If you are going into the town, will you take me withyou? I will put on my hat. "

Requests for the present were certainly commands, and two minutes laterthey set forth. Luck, as usual, befriended ability, for there was Puffinat his door, itching for the Major's return (else they would miss thetram); and lo! there came stepping along Miss Mapp in her blue-trimmedcloak, and the Major attired as for marriage--top-hat, frock-coat andbutton-hole. She did not look at Puffin and cut him; she did not seem(with the deceptiveness of appearances) to see him at all, so eager andagreeable was her conversation with her companion. The Major, so Puffinthought, attempted to give him some sort of dazed and hunted glance; buthe could not be certain even of that, so swiftly had it to betransformed into a genial interest in what Miss Mapp was saying, andPuffin stared open-mouthed after them, for they were terrible as an armywith banners. Then Diva, trundling swiftly out of the fish-shop, came, as well she might, to a dead halt, observing this absolutelyinexplicable phenomenon. 

"Good morning, Diva darling, " said Miss Mapp. "Major Benjy and I aredoing our little shopping together. So kind of him, isn't it? and verynaughty of me to take up his time. I told him he ought to be playinggolf. Such a lovely day! Au reservoir, sweet! Oh, and there's the Padre, Major Benjy! How quickly he walks! Yes, he sees us! And there's Mrs. Poppit; everybody is enjoying the sunshine. What a beautiful fur coat, though I should think she found it very heavy and warm. Good morning, dear Susan! You shopping, too, like Major Benjy and me? How is your dearIsabel?"

Miss Mapp made the most of that morning; the magnanimity of herforgiveness earned her incredible dividends. Up and down the High Streetshe went, with Major Benjy in attendance, buying grocery, stationery, gloves, eau-de-Cologne, boot-laces, the "Literary Supplement" of _TheTimes_, dried camomile flowers, and every conceivable thing that shemight possibly need in the next week, so that her shopping might be asprotracted as possible. She allowed him (such was her firmness in"spoiling" him) to carry her shopping-basket, and when that was full, she decked him like a sacrificial ram with little parcels hung by loopsof string. Sometimes she took him into a shop in case there might besomeone there who had not seen him yet on her leash; sometimes she lefthim on the pavement in a prominent position, marking, all the time, justas if she had been a clinical thermometer, the feverish curiosity thatwas burning in Tilling's veins. Only yesterday she had spread the newsof his cowardice broadcast; to-day their comradeship was of thechattiest and most genial kind. There he was, carrying her basket, andwearing frock-coat and top-hat and hung with parcels like aChristmas-tree, spending the entire morning with her instead of golfingwith Puffin. Miss Mapp positively shuddered as she tried to realize whather state of mind would have been, if she had seen him thus coupledwith Diva. She would have suspected (rightly in all probability) someloathsome intrigue against herself. And the cream of it was that untilshe chose, nobody could possibly find out what had caused thismetamorphosis so paralysing to inquiring intellects, for Major Benjywould assuredly never tell anyone that there was a reconciliation, dueto his apology for his rudeness, when he had stood by and permitted anintoxicated Puffin to suggest disgraceful bargains. Tilling--poorTilling--would go crazy with suspense as to what it all meant. 

Never had there been such a shopping! It was nearly lunch-time when, ather front door, Major Flint finally stripped himself of her parcels andher companionship and hobbled home, profusely perspiring, and lame fromso much walking on pavements in tight patent-leather shoes. He was wearyand footsore; he had had no golf, and, though forgiven, was but a wreck. She had made him ridiculous all the morning with his frock-coat andtop-hat and his porterages, and if forgiveness entailed any more ofthese nightmare sacraments of friendliness, he felt that he would beunable to endure the fatiguing accessories of the regenerate state. Hehung up his top-hat and wiped his wet and throbbing head; he kicked offhis shoes and shed his frock-coat, and furiously qui-hied for a whiskyand soda and lunch. 

His physical restoration was accompanied by a quickening of dismay atthe general prospect. What (to put it succinctly) was life worth, evenwhen unharassed by allusions to duels, without the solace of golf, quarrels and diaries in the companionship of Puffin? He hated Puffin--noone more so--but he could not possibly get on without him, and it wasentirely due to Puffin that he had spent so outrageous a morning, forPuffin, seeking to silence Miss Mapp by his intoxicated bargain, hadbeen the prime cause of all this misery. He could not even, for fear ofthat all-seeing eye in Miss Mapp's garden-room, go across to the houseof the unforgiven sea-captain, and by a judicious recital of his woesinduce him to beg Miss Mapp's forgiveness instantly. He would have towait till the kindly darkness fell. .. . "Mere slavery!" he exclaimed withpassion. 

A tap at his sitting-room door interrupted the chain of these melancholyreflections, and his permission to enter was responded to by Puffinhimself. The Major bounced from his seat. 

"You mustn't stop here, " he said in a low voice, as if afraid that hemight be overheard. "Miss Mapp may have seen you come in. "

Puffin laughed shrilly. 

"Why, of course she did, " he gaily assented. "She was at her window allright. Ancient lights, I shall call her. What's this all about now?"

"You must go back, " said Major Flint agitatedly. "She must see you goback. I can't explain now. But I'll come across after dinner when it'sdark. Go; don't wait. "

He positively hustled the mystified Puffin out of the house, and MissMapp's face, which had grown sharp and pointed with doubts andsuspicions when she observed him enter Major Benjy's house, dimpled, asshe saw him return, into her sunniest smiles. "Dear Major Benjy, " shesaid, "he has refused to see him, " and she cut the string of the largecardboard box which had just arrived from the dyer's with the mostpleasurable anticipations. .. . 

Well, it was certainly very magnificent, and Miss Greele was quiteright, for there was not the faintest tinge to show that it hadoriginally been kingfisher-blue. She had not quite realized howbrilliant crimson-lake was in the piece; it seemed almost to cast aruddy glow on the very ceiling, and the fact that she had caused theorange chiffon with which the neck and sleeves were trimmed to be dyedblack (following the exquisite taste of Mrs. Titus Trout) only threw thesplendour of the rest into more dazzling radiance. Kingfisher-blue wouldappear quite ghostly and corpse-like in its neighbourhood; and painfulthough that would be for Diva, it would, as all her well-wishers musthope, be a lesson to her not to indulge in such garishness. She shouldbe taught her lesson (D. V. ), thought Miss Mapp, at Susan's bridge-partyto-morrow evening. Captain Puffin was being taught a lesson, too, for weare never too old to learn, or, for that matter, to teach. 

Though the night was dark and moonless, there was an inconvenientlybrilliant gas-lamp close to the Major's door, and that strategist, carrying his round roll of diaries, much the shape of a bottle, underhis coat, went about half-past nine that evening to look at therain-gutter which had been weeping into his yard, and let himself out ofthe back-door round the corner. From there he went down past thefishmonger's, crossed the road, and doubled back again up Puffin's sideof the street, which was not so vividly illuminated, though he took theprecaution of making himself little with bent knees, and of limping. Puffin was already warming himself over the fire and imbibing Romanroads, and was disposed to be hilarious over the Major's shopping. 

"But why top-hat and frock-coat, Major?" he asked. "Another visit of thePrince of Wales, I asked myself, or the Voice that breathed o'er Eden?Have a drink--one of mine, I mean? I owe you a drink for the good laughyou gave me. "

Had it not been for this generosity and the need of getting on the rightside of Puffin, Major Flint would certainly have resented such clumsylevity, but this double consideration caused him to take it withunwonted good-humour. His attempt to laugh, indeed, sounded a littlehollow, but that is the habit of self-directed merriment. 

"Well, I allow it must have seemed amusing, " he said. "The fact was thatI thought she would appreciate my putting a little ceremony into myerrand of apology, and then she whisked me off shopping before I couldgo and change. "

"Kiss and friends again, then?" asked Puffin. 

The Major grew a little stately over this. 

"No such familiarity passed, " he said. "But she accepted my regretswith--ha--the most gracious generosity. A fine-spirited woman, sir;you'll find the same. "

"I might if I looked for it, " said Puffin. "But why should I want tomake it up? You've done that, and that prevents her talking aboutduelling and early trains. She can't mock at me because of you. Youmight pass me back my bottle, if you've taken your drink. "

The Major reluctantly did so. 

"You must please yourself, old boy, " he said. "It's your business, andno one's ever said that Benjy Flint interfered in another man's affairs. But I trust you will do what good feeling indicates. I hope you valueour jolly games of golf and our pleasant evenings sufficiently highly. "

"Eh! how's that?" asked Puffin. "You going to cut me too?"

The Major sat down and put his large feet on the fender. "Tact anddiplomacy, Benjy, my boy, " he reminded himself. 

"Ha! That's what I like, " he said, "a good fire and a friend, and therest of the world may go hang. There's no question of cutting, old man;I needn't tell you that--but we must have one of our good talks. Forinstance, I very unceremoniously turned you out of my house thisafternoon, and I owe you an explanation of that. I'll give it you in oneword: Miss Mapp saw you come in. She didn't see me come in here thisevening--ha! ha!--and that's why I can sit at my ease. But if sheknew----"

Puffin guessed. 

"What has happened, Major, is that you've thrown me over for Miss Mapp, "he observed. 

"No, sir, I have not, " said the Major with emphasis. "Should I besitting here and drinking your whisky if I had? But this morning, afterthat lady had accepted my regret for my share in what occurred the othernight, she assumed that since I condemned my own conduct unreservedly, Imust equally condemn yours. It really was like a conjuring trick; thething was done before I knew anything about it. And before I'd had timeto say, 'Hold on a bit, ' I was being led up and down the High Street, carrying as much merchandise as a drove of camels. God, sir, I sufferedthis morning; you don't seem to realize that I suffered; I couldn'tstand any more mornings like that: I haven't the stamina. "

"A powerful woman, " said Puffin reflectively. 

"You may well say that, " observed Major Flint. "That is finely said. Apowerful woman she is, with a powerful tongue, and able to be powerfulnasty, and if she sees you and me on friendly terms again, she'll turnthe 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 gohang. "

"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 favourablereception. "

"No, sir, " said the Major firmly, "I will not run the risk of anothermorning'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 grewfirmer 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 hisambassadorial errand next morning. That being settled, the stillundecided point about the worm-cast gave rise to a good deal of heat, until, it being discovered that the window was open, and that theirvoices might easily carry as far as the garden-room, they made malignantrejoinders to each other in whispers. But it was impossible to go onquarrelling for long in so confidential a manner, and the disagreementwas deferred to a more convenient occasion. It was late when the Majorleft, and after putting out the light in Puffin's hall, so that heshould not be silhouetted against it, he slid into the darkness, andreached his own door by a subtle detour. 

Miss Mapp had a good deal of division of her swift mind, when, nextmorning, 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 hisapologies, she would be obliged to remit all further punishment of him, and allow him to consort with his friend again. It was difficult toforgo the pleasure of his chastisement, but, on the other hand, it wasjust possible that the Major might break away, and, whether she liked itor not (and she would not), refuse permanently to give up Puffin'ssociety. That would be awkward since she had publicly paraded herreconciliation with him. What further inclined her to clemency, was thatthis very evening the crimson-lake tea-gown would shed its effulgenceover Mrs. Poppit's bridge-party, and Diva would never want to hear theword "kingfisher" again. That was enough to put anybody in a goodtemper. So the diplomatist returned to the miscreant with the gladtidings that Miss Mapp would hear his supplication with a favourableear, and she took up a stately position in the garden-room, which sheselected as audience chamber, near the bell so that she could ring forWithers if necessary. 

 * * * * *

Miss Mapp's mercy was largely tempered with justice, and she proposed, in spite of the leniency which she would eventually exhibit, to givePuffin "what for, " first. She had not for him, as for Major Benjy, thatfeminine weakness which had made it a positive luxury to forgive him:she never even thought of Puffin as Captain Dicky, far less let thepretty endearment slip off her tongue accidentally, and the luxury whichshe anticipated from the interview was that of administering a quantityof hard slaps. She had appointed half-past twelve as the hour for hissuffering, so that he must go without his golf again. 

She put down the book she was reading when he appeared, and gazed at himstonily without speech. He limped into the middle of the room. Thismight be forgiveness, but it did not look like it, and he wonderedwhether she had got him here on false pretences. 

"Good morning, " said he. 

Miss Mapp inclined her head. Silence was gold. 

"I understood from Major Flint----" began Puffin. 

Speech could be gold too. 

"If, " said Miss Mapp, "you have come to speak about Major Flint you havewasted your time. And mine!"

(How different from Major Benjy, she thought. What a shrimp!)

The shrimp gave a slight gasp. The thing had got to be done, and thesooner he was out of range of this powerful woman the better. 

"I am extremely sorry for what I said to you the other night, " he said. 

"I am glad you are sorry, " said Miss Mapp. 

"I offer you my apologies for what I said, " continued Puffin. 

The whip whistled. 

"When you spoke to me on the occasion to which you refer, " said MissMapp, "I saw of course at once that you were not in a condition to speakto anybody. I instantly did you that justice, for I am just toeverybody. I paid no more attention to what you said than I should havepaid to any tipsy vagabond in the slums. I daresay you hardly rememberwhat you said, so that before I hear your expression of regret, I willremind you of it. You threatened, unless I promised to tell nobody inwhat a disgusting condition you were, to say that I was tipsy. ElizabethMapp tipsy! That was what you said, Captain Puffin. "

Captain Puffin turned extremely red. ("Now the shrimp's being boiled, "thought Miss Mapp. )

"I can't do more than apologize, " said he. He did not know whether hewas angrier with his ambassador or her. 

"Did you say you couldn't do 'more, '" said Miss Mapp with an air ofgreat interest. "How curious! I should have thought you couldn't havedone less. "

"Well, what more can I do?" asked he. 

"If you think, " said Miss Mapp, "that you hurt me by your conduct thatnight, you are vastly mistaken. And if you think you can do no more thanapologize, I will teach you better. You can make an effort, CaptainPuffin, to break with your deplorable habits, to try to get back alittle of the self-respect, if you ever had any, which you have lost. You can cease trying, oh, so unsuccessfully, to drag Major Benjy down toyour level. That's what you can do. "

She let these withering observations blight him. 

"I accept your apologies, " she said. "I hope you will do better in thefuture, Captain Puffin, and I shall look anxiously for signs ofimprovement. We will meet with politeness and friendliness when we arebrought together and I will do my best to wipe all remembrance of yourtipsy impertinence from my mind. And you must do your best too. You arenot young, and engrained habits are difficult to get rid of. But do notdespair, Captain Puffin. And now I will ring for Withers and she willshow you out. "

She rang the bell, and gave a sample of her generous oblivion. 

"And we meet, do we not, this evening at Mrs. Poppit's?" she said, looking not at him, but about a foot above his head. "Such pleasantevenings one always has there, I hope it will not be a wet evening, butthe glass is sadly down. Oh, Withers, Captain Puffin is going. Goodmorning, Captain Puffin. Such a pleasure!"

Miss Mapp hummed a rollicking little tune as she observed him totterdown the street. 

"There!" she said, and had a glass of Burgundy for lunch as a treat. 

CHAPTER X

The news that Mr. Wyse was to be of the party that evening at Mrs. Poppit's and was to dine there first, _en famille_ (as he casually letslip in order to air his French), created a disagreeable impression thatafternoon in Tilling. It was not usual to do anything more than "have atray" for your evening meal, if one of these winter bridge-partiesfollowed, and there was, to Miss Mapp's mind, a deplorable tendency toostentation in this dinner-giving before a party. Still, if Susan wasdetermined to be extravagant, she might have asked Miss Mapp as well, who resented this want of hospitality. She did not like, either, thishole-and-corner _en famille_ work with Mr. Wyse; it indicated a pushingfamiliarity to which, it was hoped, Mr. Wyse's eyes were open. 

There was another point: the party, it had been ascertained, would inall number ten, and if, as was certain, there would be twobridge-tables, that seemed to imply that two people would have to cutout. There were often nine at Mrs. Poppit's bridge-parties (she appearedto be unable to count), but on those occasions Isabel was generallytold by her mother that she did not care for bridge, and so there was nocutting out, but only a pleasant book for Isabel. But what would be donewith ten? It was idle to hope that Susan would sit out: as hostess shealways considered it part of her duties to play solidly the entireevening. Still, if the cutting of cards malignantly ordained that MissMapp was ejected, it was only reasonable to expect that after hermagnanimity to the United Services, either Major Benjy or Captain Puffinwould be so obdurate in his insistence that she must play instead ofhim, that it would be only ladylike to yield. 

She did not, therefore, allow this possibility to dim the pleasure sheanticipated from the discomfiture of darling Diva, who would be certainto appear in the kingfisher-blue tea-gown, and find herself ghastly andoutshone by the crimson-lake which was the colour of Mrs. Trout's secondtoilet, and Miss Mapp, after prolonged thought as to her most dramaticmoment of entrance in the crimson-lake, determined to arrive when shemight expect the rest of the guests to have already assembled. She wouldrisk, it is true, being out of a rubber for a little, since bridge mighthave already begun, but play would have to stop for a minute ofgreetings when she came in, and she would beg everybody not to stir, andwould seat herself quite, quite close to Diva, and openly admire herpretty frock, "like one I used to have . .. !"

It was, therefore, not much lacking of ten o'clock when, after she hadwaited a considerable time on Mrs. Poppit's threshold, Boon sulkilyallowed her to enter, but gave no answer to her timid inquiry of: "Am Ivery late, Boon?" The drawing-room door was a little ajar, and as shetook off the cloak that masked the splendour of the crimson-lake, heracute ears heard the murmur of talk going on, which indicated thatbridge had not yet begun, while her acute nostrils detected the faintbut certain smell of roast grouse, which showed what Susan had given Mr. Wyse for dinner, probably telling him that the birds were a present toher from the shooting-lodge where she had stayed in the summer. Then, after she had thrown herself a glance in the mirror, and put on hersmile, Boon preceded her, slightly shrugging his shoulders, to thedrawing-room door, which he pushed open, and grunted loudly, which washis manner of announcing a guest. Miss Mapp went tripping in, almost ata run, to indicate how vexed she was with herself for being late, andthere, just in front of her, stood Diva, dressed not in kingfisher-blueat all, but in the crimson-lake of Mrs. Trout's second toilet. Perfidious Diva had had her dress dyed too. .. . 

Miss Mapp's courage rose to the occasion. Other people, Majors and tipsyCaptains, might be cowards, but not she. Twice now (omitting the matterof the Wars of the Roses) had Diva by some cunning, which it wasimpossible not to suspect of a diabolical origin, clad her odious littleroundabout form in splendours identical with Miss Mapp's, but now, without faltering even when she heard Evie's loud squeak, she turned toher hostess, who wore the Order of M. B. E. On her ample breast, and madeher salutations in a perfectly calm voice. 

"Dear Susan, don't scold me for being so late, " she said, "though I knowI deserve it. So sweet of you! Isabel darling and dear Evie! Oh, and Mr. Wyse! Sweet Irene! Major Benjy and Captain Puffin! Had a nice game ofgolf? And the Padre!. .. "

She hesitated a moment wondering, if she could, without screaming orscratching, seem aware of Diva's presence. Then she soared, lambent asflame. 

"Diva darling!" she said, and bent and kissed her, even as St. Stephenin the moment of martyrdom prayed for those who stoned him. Flesh andblood could not manage more, and she turned to Mr. Wyse, rememberingthat Diva had told her that the Contessa Faradiddleony's arrival waspostponed. 

"And your dear sister has put off her journey, I understand, " she said. "Such a disappointment! Shall we see her at Tilling at all, do youthink?"

Mr. Wyse looked surprised. 

"Dear lady, " he said, "you're the second person who has said that to me. Mrs. Plaistow asked me just now----"

"Yes; it was she who told me, " said Miss Mapp in case there was amistake. "Isn't it true?"

"Certainly not. I told my housekeeper that the Contessa's maid was ill, and would follow her, but that's the only foundation I know of for thisrumour. Amelia encourages me to hope that she will be here early nextweek. "

"Oh, no doubt that's it!" said Miss Mapp in an aside so that Diva couldhear. "Darling Diva's always getting hold of the most erroneousinformation. She must have been listening to servants' gossip. So gladshe's wrong about it. "

Mr. Wyse made one of his stately inclinations of the head. 

"Amelia will regret very much not being here to-night, " he said, "for Isee all the great bridge-players are present. "

"Oh, Mr. Wyse!" said she. "We shall all be humble learners compared withthe Contessa, I expect. "

"Not at all!" said Mr. Wyse. "But what a delightful idea of yours andMrs. Plaistow's to dress alike in such lovely gowns. Quite likesisters. "

Miss Mapp could not trust herself to speak on this subject, and showedall her teeth, not snarling but amazingly smiling. She had no occasionto reply, however, for Captain Puffin joined them, eagerly deferential. 

"What a charming surprise you and Mrs. Plaistow have given us, MissMapp, " he said, "in appearing again in the same beautiful dresses. Quitelike----"

Miss Mapp could not bear to hear what she and Diva were like, andwheeled about, passionately regretting that she had forgiven Puffin. This manoeuvre brought her face to face with the Major. 

"Upon my word, Miss Elizabeth, " he said, "you look magnificentto-night. "

He saw the light of fury in her eyes, and guessed, mere man as he was, what it was about. He bent to her and spoke low. 

"But, by Jove!" he said with supreme diplomacy, "somebody ought to tellour good Mrs. Plaistow that some women can wear a wonderful gown andothers--ha!"

"Dear Major Benjy, " said she. "Cruel of you to poor Diva. "

But instantly her happiness was clouded again, for the Padre had a veryill-inspired notion. 

"What ho! fair Madam Plaistow, " he humorously observed to Miss Mapp. "Ah! Peccavi! I am in error. It is Mistress Mapp. But let us to thecards! Our hostess craves thy presence at yon table. "

Contrary to custom Mrs. Poppit did not sit firmly down at a table, norwas Isabel told that she had an invincible objection to playing bridge. Instead she bade everybody else take their seats, and said that she andMr. Wyse had settled at dinner that they much preferred looking on andlearning to playing. With a view to enjoying this incredible treat asfully as possible, they at once seated themselves on a low sofa at thefar end of the room where they could not look or learn at all, andengaged in conversation. Diva and Elizabeth, as might have been expectedfrom the malignant influence which watched over their attire, cut in atthe same table and were partners, so that they had, in spite of thedeadly antagonism of identical tea-gowns, a financial interest incommon, while a further bond between them was the eagerness with whichthey strained their ears to overhear anything that their hostess and Mr. Wyse were saying to each other. 

Miss Mapp and Diva alike were perhaps busier when they were being dummythan when they were playing the cards. Over the background of each mindwas spread a hatred of the other, red as their tea-gowns, and shot withblack despair as to what on earth they should do now with thoseill-fated pieces of pride. Miss Mapp was prepared to make a perfectchameleon of hers, if only she could get away from Diva's hue, but whatif, having changed, say, to purple, Diva became purple too? She couldnot stand a third coincidence, and besides, she much doubted whether anygown that had once been of so pronounced a crimson-lake, couldsuccessfully attempt to appear of any other hue except perhaps black. IfDiva died, she might perhaps consult Miss Greele as to whether blackwould be possible, but then if Diva died, there was no reason for notwearing crimson-lake for ever, since it would be an insincerity of whichMiss Mapp humbly hoped she was incapable, to go into mourning for Divajust because she died. 

In front of this lurid background of despair moved the figures whichwould have commanded all her attention, have aroused all the feelings ofdisgust and pity of which she was capable, had only Diva stuck tokingfisher-blue. There they sat on the sofa, talking in voices which itwas impossible to overhear, and if ever a woman made up to a man, and ifever a man was taken in by shallow artifices, "they, " thought Miss Mapp, "are the ones. " There was no longer any question that Susan was doingher utmost to inveigle Mr. Wyse into matrimony, for no other motive, notpoliteness, not the charm of conversation, not the low, comfortable seatby the fire could possibly have had force enough to keep her for a wholeevening from the bridge-table. That dinner _en famille_, so Miss Mappsarcastically reflected--what if it was the first of hundreds of similardinners _en famille_? Perhaps, when safely married, Susan would ask herto one of the family dinners, with a glassful of foam which she calledchampagne, and the leg of a crow which she called game from theshooting-lodge. .. . There was no use in denying that Mr. Wyse seemed tobe swallowing flattery and any other form of bait as fast as they weresupplied him; never had he been so made up to since the day, now twoyears ago, when Miss Mapp herself wrote him down as uncapturable. Butnow, on this awful evening of crimson-lake, it seemed only prudent toface the prospect of his falling into the nets which were spread forhim. .. . Susan the sister-in-law of a Contessa. Susan the wife of the manwhose urbanity made all Tilling polite to each other, Susan a Wyse ofWhitchurch! It made Miss Mapp feel positively weary of earth. .. . 

Nor was this the sum of Miss Mapp's mental activities, as she sat beingdummy to Diva, for, in addition to the rage, despair and disgust withwhich these various topics filled her, she had narrowly to watch Diva'splay, in order, at the end, to point out to her with lucid firmness allthe mistakes she had made, while with snorts and sniffs and mutteredexclamations and jerks of the head and pullings-out of cards andputtings of them back with amazing assertions that she had not quittedthem, she wrestled with the task she had set herself of getting twono-trumps. It was impossible to count the tricks that Diva made, for shehad a habit of putting her elbow on them after she had raked them in, asif in fear that her adversaries would filch them when she was notlooking, and Miss Mapp, distracted with other interests, forgot thatno-trumps had been declared and thought it was hearts, of which Divaplayed several after their adversaries' hands were quite denuded ofthem. She often did that "to make sure. "

"Three tricks, " she said triumphantly at the conclusion, counting thecards in the cache below her elbow. 

Miss Mapp gave a long sigh, but remembered that Mr. Wyse was present. 

"You could have got two more, " she said, "if you hadn't played thosehearts, dear. You would have been able to trump Major Benjy's club andthe Padre's diamond, and we should have gone out. Never mind, you playedit beautifully otherwise. "

"Can't trump when it's no trumps, " said Diva, forgetting that Mr. Wysewas there. "That's nonsense. Got three tricks. Did go out. Did you thinkit was hearts? Wasn't. "

Miss Mapp naturally could not demean herself to take any notice of this. 

"Your deal, is it, Major Benjy?" she asked. "Me to cut?"

Diva had remembered just after her sharp speech to her partner that Mr. Wyse was present, and looked towards the sofa to see if there were anyindications of pained surprise on his face which might indicate that hehad heard. But what she saw there--or, to be more accurate, what shefailed to see there--forced her to give an exclamation which caused MissMapp to look round in the direction where Diva's bulging eyes wereglued. .. . There was no doubt whatever about it: Mrs. Poppit and Mr. Wysewere no longer there. Unless they were under the sofa they had certainlyleft the room together and altogether. Had she gone to put on her sablecoat on this hot night? Was Mr. Wyse staggering under its weight as hefitted her into it? Miss Mapp rejected the supposition; they had gone toanother room to converse more privately. This looked very black indeed, and she noted the time on the clock in order to ascertain, when theycame back, how long they had been absent. 

The rubber went on its wild way, relieved from the restraining influenceof Mr. Wyse, and when, thirty-nine minutes afterwards, it came to itsconclusion and neither the hostess nor Mr. Wyse had returned, Miss Mappwas content to let Diva muddle herself madly, adding up the score withthe assistance of her fingers, and went across to the other table tillshe should be called back to check her partner's figures. They would becertain to need checking. 

"Has Mr. Wyse gone away already, dear Isabel?" she said. "How early!"

("And four makes nine, " muttered Diva, getting to her little finger. )

Isabel was dummy, and had time for conversation. 

"I think he has only gone with Mamma into the conservatory, " shesaid--"no more diamonds, partner?--to advise her about the orchids. "

Now the conservatory was what Miss Mapp considered a potting-shed with aglass roof, and the orchids were one anæmic odontoglossum, and therewould scarcely be room besides that for Mrs. Poppit and Mr. Wyse. Thepotting-shed was visible from the drawing-room window, over whichcurtains were drawn. 

"Such a lovely night, " said Miss Mapp. "And while Diva is checking thescore may I have a peep at the stars, dear? So fond of the sweet stars. "

She glided to the window (conscious that Diva was longing to glide too, but was preparing to quarrel with the Major's score) and took her peepat the sweet stars. The light from the hall shone full into thepotting-shed, but there was nobody there. She made quite sure of that. 

Diva had heard about the sweet stars, and for the first time in her lifemade no objection to her adversaries' total. 

"You're right, Major Flint, eighteen-pence, " she said. "Stupid of me:I've left my handkerchief in the pocket of my cloak. I'll pop out andget it. Back in a minute. Cut again for partners. "

She trundled to the door and popped out of it before Miss Mapp had theslightest chance of intercepting her progress. This was bitter, becausethe dining-room opened out of the hall, and so did the book-cupboardwith a window which dear Susan called her boudoir. Diva was quitecapable of popping into both of these apartments. In fact, if thetruants were there, it was no use bothering about the sweet stars anymore, and Diva would already have won. .. . 

There was a sweet moon as well, and just as baffled Miss Mapp wasturning away from the window, she saw that which made her positivelyglue her nose to the cold window-pane, and tuck the curtain in, so thather silhouette should not be visible from outside. Down the middle ofthe garden path came the two truants, Susan in her sables and Mr. Wyseclose beside her with his coat-collar turned up. Her ample form with thesmall round head on the top looked like a short-funnelled locomotiveengine, and he like the driver on the foot-plate. The perfidious thingshad said they were going to consult over the orchid. Did orchids grow onthe lawn? It was news to Miss Mapp if they did. 

They stopped, and Mr. Wyse quite clearly pointed to some celestialobject, moon or star, and they both gazed at it. The sight of two suchmiddle-aged people behaving like this made Miss Mapp feel quite sick, but she heroically continued a moment more at her post. Her heroism wasrewarded, for immediately after the inspection of the celestial object, they turned and inspected each other. And Mr. Wyse kissed her. 

Miss Mapp "scriggled" from behind the curtain into the room again. 

"Aldebaran!" she said. "So lovely!"

Simultaneously Diva re-entered with her handkerchief, thwarted anddisappointed, for she had certainly found nobody either in the boudoiror in the dining-room. But there was going to be a sit-down supper, andas Boon was not there, she had taken a _marron glacé_. 

Miss Mapp was flushed with excitement and disgust, and almost forgotabout Diva's gown. 

"Found your hanky, dear?" she said. "Then shall we cut for partnersagain? You and me, Major Benjy. Don't scold me if I play wrong. "

She managed to get a seat that commanded a full-face view of the door, for the next thing was to see how "the young couple" (as she had alreadylabelled them in her sarcastic mind) "looked" when they returned fromtheir amorous excursion to the orchid that grew on the lawn. Theyentered, most unfortunately, while she was in the middle of playing acomplicated hand, and her brain was so switched off from the play bytheir entrance that she completely lost the thread of what she wasdoing, and threw away two tricks that simply required to be gathered upby her, but now lurked below Diva's elbow. What made it worse was thatno trace of emotion, no heightened colour, no coy and downcast eyebetrayed a hint of what had happened on the lawn. With brazen effronterySusan informed her daughter that Mr. Wyse thought a littleleaf-mould. .. . 

"What a liar!" thought Miss Mapp, and triumphantly put her remainingtrump on to her dummy's best card. Then she prepared to make the best ofit. 

"We've lost three, I'm afraid, Major Benjy, " she said. "Don't you thinkyou overbid your hand just a little wee bit?"

"I don't know about that, Miss Elizabeth, " said the Major. "If youhadn't let those two spades go, and hadn't trumped my best heart----"

Miss Mapp interrupted with her famous patter. 

"Oh, but if I had taken the spades, " she said quickly, "I should havehad to lead up to Diva's clubs, and then they would have got the roughin diamonds, and I should have never been able to get back into yourhand again. Then at the end if I hadn't trumped your heart, I shouldhave had to lead the losing spade and Diva would have over-trumped; andbrought in her club, and we should have gone down two more. If youfollow me, I think you'll agree that I was right to do that. But allgood players overbid their hands sometimes, Major Benjy. Such fun!"

The supper was unusually ostentatious, but Miss Mapp saw the reason forthat; it was clear that Susan wanted to impress poor Mr. Wyse with herwealth, and probably when it came to settlements, he would learn somevery unpleasant news. But there were agreeable little circumstances totemper her dislike of this extravagant display, for she was hungry, andDiva, always a gross feeder, spilt some hot chocolate sauce on thecrimson-lake, which, if indelible, might supply a solution to theproblem of what was to be done now about her own frock. She kept an eye, too, on Captain Puffin, to see if he showed any signs of improvement inthe direction she had indicated to him in her interview, and wasrejoiced to see that one of these glances was clearly the cause of hisrefusing a second glass of port. He had already taken the stopper out ofthe decanter when their eyes met . .. And then he put it back again. Improvement already!

Everything else (pending the discovery as to whether chocolate oncrimson-lake spelt ruin) now faded into a middle distance, while theaffairs of Susan and poor Mr. Wyse occupied the entire foreground ofMiss Mapp's consciousness. Mean and cunning as Susan's conduct must havebeen in entrapping Mr. Wyse when others had failed to gain hisaffection, Miss Mapp felt that it would be only prudent to continue onthe most amicable of terms with her, for as future sister-in-law to acountess, and wife to the man who by the mere exercise of his presencecould make Tilling sit up and behave, she would doubtless not hesitateabout giving Miss Mapp some nasty ones back if retaliation demanded. Itwas dreadful to think that this audacious climber was so soon to belongto the Wyses of Whitchurch, but since the moonlight had revealed thatsuch was Mr. Wyse's intention, it was best to be friends with the Mammonof the British Empire. Poppit-cum-Wyse was likely to be a very importantcentre of social life in Tilling, when not in Scotland or Whitchurch orCapri, and Miss Mapp wisely determined that even the announcement of theengagement should not induce her to give voice to the very propersentiments which it could not help inspiring. 

After all she had done for Susan, in letting the door of high-life inTilling swing open for her when she could not possibly keep it shut anylonger, it seemed only natural that, if she only kept on good terms withher now, Susan would insist that her dear Elizabeth must be the first tobe told of the engagement. This made her pause before adopting theobvious course of setting off immediately after breakfast next morning, and telling all her friends, under promise of secrecy, just what she hadseen in the moonlight last night. Thrilling to the narrator as such anannouncement would be, it would be even more thrilling, provided onlythat Susan had sufficient sense of decency to tell her of the engagementbefore anybody else, to hurry off to all the others and inform them thatshe had known of it ever since the night of the bridge-party. 

It was important, therefore, to be at home whenever there was theslightest chance of Susan coming round with her news, and Miss Mapp satat her window the whole of that first morning, so as not to miss her, and hardly attended at all to the rest of the pageant of life that movedwithin the radius of her observation. Her heart beat fast when, aboutthe middle of the morning, Mr. Wyse came round the dentist's corner, forit might be that the bashful Susan had sent him to make theannouncement, but, if so, he was bashful too, for he walked by her housewithout pause. He looked rather worried, she thought (as well he might), and passing on he disappeared round the church corner, clearly on hisway to his betrothed. He carried a square parcel in his hand, about asbig as some jewel-case that might contain a tiara. Half an hourafterwards, however, he came back, still carrying the tiara. It occurredto her that the engagement might have been broken off. .. . A littlelater, again with a quickened pulse, Miss Mapp saw the Royce lumber downfrom the church corner. It stopped at her house, and she caught aglimpse of sables within. This time she felt certain that Susan had comewith her interesting news, and waited till Withers, having answered thedoor, came to inquire, no doubt, whether she would see Mrs. Poppit. But, alas, a minute later the Royce lumbered on, carrying the additionalweight of the Christmas number of _Punch_, which Miss Mapp had borrowedlast night and had not, of course, had time to glance at yet. 

Anticipation is supposed to be pleasanter than any fulfilment, howeveragreeable, and if that is the case, Miss Mapp during the next day or twohad more enjoyment than the announcement of fifty engagements could havegiven her, so constantly (when from the garden-room she heard the soundof the knocker on her front door) did she spring up in certainty thatthis was Susan, which it never was. But however enjoyable it all mightbe, she appeared to herself at least to be suffering tortures ofsuspense, through which by degrees an idea, painful and revolting in theextreme, yet strangely exhilarating, began to insinuate itself into hermind. There seemed a deadly probability of the correctness of theconjecture, as the week went by without further confirmation of thatkiss, for, after all, who knew anything about the character andantecedents of Susan? As for Mr. Wyse, was he not a constant visitor tothe fierce and fickle South, where, as everyone knew, morality waswholly extinct? And how, if it was all too true, should Tilling treatthis hitherto unprecedented situation? It was terrible to contemplatethis moral upheaval, which might prove to be a social upheaval also. Time and again, as Miss Mapp vainly waited for news, she was within anace of communicating her suspicions to the Padre. He ought to know, forChristmas (as was usual in December) was daily drawing nearer. .. . 

There came some half-way through that month a dark and ominousafternoon, the rain falling sad and thick, and so unusual a density ofcloud dwelling in the upper air that by three o'clock Miss Mapp wasquite unable, until the street lamp at the corner was lit, to carry outthe minor duty of keeping an eye on the houses of Captain Puffin andMajor Benjy. The Royce had already lumbered by her door sincelunch-time, but so dark was it that, peer as she might, it was lost inthe gloom before it came to the dentist's corner, and Miss Mapp had toface the fact that she really did not know whether it had turned intothe street where Susan's lover lived or had gone straight on. It waseasier to imagine the worst, and she had already pictured to herself aclandestine meeting between those passionate ones, who under cover ofthis darkness were imperviously concealed from any observation (beneathan umbrella) from her house-roof. Nothing but a powerful searchlightcould reveal what was going on in the drawing-room window of Mr. Wyse'shouse, and apart from the fact that she had not got a powerfulsearchlight, it was strongly improbable that anything of a very intimatenature was going on there . .. It was not likely that they would choosethe drawing-room window. She thought of calling on Mr. Wyse and askingfor the loan of a book, so that she would see whether the sables were inthe hall, but even then she would not really be much further on. Even asshe considered this a sea-mist began to creep through the streetoutside, and in a few minutes it was blotted from view. Nothing wasvisible, and nothing audible but the hissing of the shrouded rain. 

Suddenly from close outside came the sound of a door-knocker imperiouslyplied, which could be no other than her own. Only a telegram or someurgent errand could bring anyone out on such a day, and unable to bearthe suspense of waiting till Withers had answered it, she hurried intothe house to open the door herself. Was the news of the engagementcoming to her at last? Late though it was, she would welcome it evennow, for it would atone, in part at any rate. .. . It was Diva. 

"Diva dear!" said Miss Mapp enthusiastically, for Withers was already inthe hall. "How sweet of you to come round. Anything special?"

"Yes, " said Diva, opening her eyes very wide, and spreading a shower ofmoisture as she whisked off her mackintosh. "She's come. "

This could not refer to Susan. .. . 

"Who?" asked Miss Mapp. 

"Faradiddleony, " said Diva. 

"No!" said Miss Mapp very loud, so much interested that she quite forgotto resent Diva's being the first to have the news. "Let's have acomfortable cup of tea in the garden-room. Tea, Withers. "

Miss Mapp lit the candles there, for, lost in meditation, she had beensitting in the dark, and with reckless hospitality poked the fire tomake it blaze. 

"Tell me all about it, " she said. That would be a treat for Diva, whowas such a gossip. 

"Went to the station just now, " said Diva. "Wanted a new time-table. Besides the Royce had just gone down. Mr. Wyse and Susan on theplatform. "

"Sables?" asked Miss Mapp parenthetically, to complete the picture. 

"Swaddled. Talked to them. Train came in. Woman got out. Kissed Mr. Wyse. Shook hands with Susan. Both hands. While luggage was got out. "

"Much?" asked Miss Mapp quickly. 

"Hundreds. Covered with coronets and Fs. Two cabs. "

Miss Mapp's mind, on a hot scent, went back to the previous telegraphicutterance. 

"Both hands did you say, dear?" she asked. "Perhaps that's the Italianfashion. "

"Maybe. Then what else do you think? Faradiddleony kissed Susan! Mr. Wyse and she must be engaged. I can't account for it any other way. Hemust have written to tell his sister. Couldn't have told her then at thestation. Must have been engaged some days and we never knew. They wentto look at the orchid. Remember? That was when. "

It was bitter, no doubt, but the bitterness could be transmuted into anamazing sweetness. 

"Then now I can speak, " said Miss Mapp with a sigh of great relief. "Oh, it has been so hard keeping silence, but I felt I ought to. I knew allalong, Diva dear, all, all along. "

"How?" asked Diva with a fallen crest. 

Miss Mapp laughed merrily. 

"I looked out of the window, dear, while you went for your hanky andpeeped into dining-room and boudoir, didn't you? There they were on thelawn, and they kissed each other. So I said to myself: 'Dear Susan hasgot him! Perseverance rewarded!'"

"H'm. Only a guess of yours. Or did Susan tell you?"

"No, dear, she said nothing. But Susan was always secretive. "

"But they might not have been engaged at all, " said Diva with abrightened eye. "Man doesn't always marry a woman he kisses!"

Diva had betrayed the lowness of her mind now by hazarding that whichhad for days dwelt in Miss Mapp's mind as almost certain. She drew inher breath with a hissing noise as if in pain. 

"Darling, what a dreadful suggestion, " she said. "No such idea everoccurred to me. Secretive I thought Susan might be, but immoral, never. I must forget you ever thought that. Let's talk about something lesspainful. Perhaps you would like to tell me more about the Contessa. "

Diva had the grace to look ashamed of herself, and to take refuge in thenew topic so thoughtfully suggested. 

"Couldn't see clearly, " she said. "So dark. But tall and lean. Sneezed. "

"That might happen to anybody, dear, " said Miss Mapp, "whether tall orshort. Nothing more?"

"An eyeglass, " said Diva after thought. 

"A single one?" asked Miss Mapp. "On a string? How strange for awoman. "

That seemed positively the last atom of Diva's knowledge, and thoughMiss Mapp tried on the principles of psycho-analysis to disintersomething she had forgotten, the catechism led to no results whatever. But Diva had evidently something else to say, for after finishing hertea she whizzed backwards and forwards from window to fireplace withlittle grunts and whistles, as was her habit when she was strugglingwith utterance. Long before it came out, Miss Mapp had, of course, guessed what it was. No wonder Diva found difficulty in speaking of amatter in which she had behaved so deplorably. .. . 

"About that wretched dress, " she said at length. "Got it stained withchocolate first time I wore it, and neither I nor Janet can get it out. "

("Hurrah, " thought Miss Mapp. )

"Must have it dyed again, " continued Diva. "Thought I'd better tell you. Else you might have yours dyed the same colour as mine again. Kingfisher-blue to crimson-lake. All came out of Vogue and Mrs. Trout. Rather funny, you know, but expensive. You should have seen your face, Elizabeth, when you came in to Susan's the other night. "

"Should I, dearest?" said Miss Mapp, trembling violently. 

"Yes. Wouldn't have gone home with you in the dark for anything. Murder. "

"Diva dear, " said Miss Mapp anxiously, "you've got a mind which likes toput the worst construction on everything. If Mr. Wyse kisses hisintended you think things too terrible for words; if I look surprisedyou think I'm full of hatred and malice. Be more generous, dear. Don'tput evil constructions on all you see. "

"Ho!" said Diva with a world of meaning. 

"I don't know what you intend to convey by ho, " said Miss Mapp, "and Ishan't try to guess. But be kinder, darling, and it will make youhappier. Thinketh no evil, you know! Charity!"

Diva felt that the limit of what was tolerable was reached whenElizabeth lectured her on the need of charity, and she would no doubthave explained tersely and unmistakably exactly what she meant by "Ho!"had not Withers opportunely entered to clear away tea. She brought anote with her, which Miss Mapp opened. "Encourage me to hope, " were thefirst words that met her eye: Mrs. Poppit had been encouraging him tohope again. 

"To dine at Mr. Wyse's to-morrow, " she said. "No doubt the announcementwill be made then. He probably wrote it before he went to the station. Yes, a few friends. You going, dear?"

Diva instantly got up. 

"Think I'll run home and see, " she said. "By the by, Elizabeth, whatabout the--the teagown, if I go? You or I?"

"If yours is all covered with chocolate, I shouldn't think you'd like towear it, " said Miss Mapp. 

"Could tuck it away, " said Diva, "just for once. Put flowers. Then sendit to dyer's. You won't see it again. Not crimson-lake, I mean. "

Miss Mapp summoned the whole of her magnanimity. It had been put to agreat strain already and was tired out, but it was capable of one moreeffort. 

"Wear it then, " she said. "It'll be a treat to you. But let me know ifyou're not asked. I daresay Mr. Wyse will want to keep it very small. Good-bye, dear; I'm afraid you'll get very wet going home. "

CHAPTER XI

The sea-mist and the rain continued without intermission next morning, but shopping with umbrellas and mackintoshes was unusually brisk, forthere was naturally a universally felt desire to catch sight of aContessa with as little delay as possible. The foggy conditions perhapsadded to the excitement, for it was not possible to see more than a fewyards, and thus at any moment anybody might almost run into her. Diva'simpressions, meagre though they were, had been thoroughly circulated, but the morning passed, and the ladies of Tilling went home to changetheir wet things and take a little ammoniated quinine as a precautionafter so long and chilly an exposure, without a single one of themhaving caught sight of the single eyeglass. It was disappointing, butthe disappointment was bearable since Mr. Wyse, so far from wanting hisparty to be very small, had been encouraged by Mrs. Poppit to hope thatit would include all his world of Tilling with one exception. He hadhopes with regard to the Major and the Captain, and the Padre and weewifie, and Irene and Miss Mapp, and of course Isabel. But apparently hedespaired of Diva. 

She alone therefore was absent from this long, wet shopping, for shewaited indoors, almost pen in hand, to answer in the affirmative theinvitation which had at present not arrived. Owing to the thickness ofthe fog, her absence from the street passed unnoticed, for everybodysupposed that everybody else had seen her, while she, biting her nailsat home, waited and waited and waited. Then she waited. About a quarterpast one she gave it up, and duly telephoned, according to promise, viâJanet and Withers, to Miss Mapp to say that Mr. Wyse had not yet hoped. It was very unpleasant to let them know, but if she had herself rung upand been answered by Elizabeth, who usually rushed to the telephone, shefelt that she would sooner have choked than have delivered this message. So Janet telephoned and Withers said she would tell her mistress. Anddid. 

Miss Mapp was steeped in pleasant conjectures. The most likely of allwas that the Contessa had seen that roundabout little busybody in thestation, and taken an instant dislike to her through her singleeyeglass. Or she might have seen poor Diva inquisitively inspecting theluggage with the coronets and the Fs on it, and have learned with painthat this was one of the ladies of Tilling. "Algernon, " she would havesaid (so said Miss Mapp to herself), "who is that queer little woman? Isshe going to steal some of my luggage?" And then Algernon would havetold her that this was poor Diva, quite a decent sort of little body. But when it came to Algernon asking his guests for the dinner-party inhonour of his betrothal and her arrival at Tilling, no doubt theContessa would have said, "Algernon, I beg. .. . " Or if Diva--poorDiva--was right in her conjectures that the notes had been writtenbefore the arrival of the train, it was evident that Algernon had tornup the one addressed to Diva, when the Contessa heard whom she was tomeet the next evening. .. . Or Susan might easily have insinuated thatthey would have two very pleasant tables of bridge after dinner withoutincluding Diva, who was so wrong and quarrelsome over the score. Any ofthese explanations were quite satisfactory, and since Diva would not bepresent, Miss Mapp would naturally don the crimson-lake. They would allsee what crimson-lake looked like when it decked a suitable wearer andwas not parodied on the other side of a card-table. How true, as dearMajor Benjy had said, that one woman could wear what another couldnot. .. . And if there was a woman who could not wear crimson-lake it wasDiva. .. . Or was Mr. Wyse really ashamed to let his sister see Diva inthe crimson-lake? It would be just like him to be considerate of Diva, and not permit her to make a guy of herself before the Italianaristocracy. No doubt he would ask her to lunch some day, quite quietly. Or had . .. Miss Mapp bloomed with pretty conjectures, like some Alpinemeadow when smitten into flower by the spring, and enjoyed her lunchvery much indeed. 

The anxiety and suspense of the morning, which, instead of beingrelieved, had ended in utter gloom, gave Diva a headache, and sheadopted her usual strenuous methods of getting rid of it. So, instead oflying down and taking aspirin and dozing, she set out after lunch towalk it off. She sprinted and splashed along the miry roads, indifferentas to whether she stepped in puddles or not, and careless how wet shegot. She bit on the bullet of her omission from the dinner-party thisevening, determining not to mind one atom about it, but to look forwardto a pleasant evening at home instead of going out (like this) in thewet. And never--never under any circumstances would she ask any of theguests what sort of an evening had been spent, how Mr. Wyse announcedthe news, and how the Faradiddleony played bridge. (She said thatsatirical word aloud, mouthing it to the puddles and the drippinghedge-rows. ) She would not evince the slightest interest in it all; shewould cover it with spadefuls of oblivion, and when next she met Mr. Wyse she would, whatever she might feel, behave exactly as usual. Sheplumed herself on this dignified resolution, and walked so fast that thehedge-rows became quite transparent. That was the proper thing to do;she had been grossly slighted, and, like a true lady, would be unawareof that slight; whereas poor Elizabeth, under such circumstances, wouldhave devised a hundred petty schemes for rendering Mr. Wyse's life aburden to him. But if--if (she only said "if") she found any reason tobelieve that Susan was at the bottom of this, then probably she wouldthink of something worthy not so much of a true lady but of a truewoman. Without asking any questions, she might easily arrive atinformation which would enable her to identify Susan as the culprit, andshe would then act in some way which would astonish Susan. What that waywas she need not think yet, and so she devoted her entire mind to thequestion all the way home. 

Feeling better and with her headache quite gone, she arrived in Tillingagain drenched to the skin. It was already after tea-time, and sheabandoned tea altogether, and prepared to console herself for herexclusion from gaiety with a "good blow-out" in the shape of regulardinner, instead of the usual muffin now and a tray later. To add dignityto her feast, she put on the crimson-lake tea-gown for the last timethat it would be crimson-lake (though the same tea-gown still), sinceto-morrow it would be sent to the dyer's to go into perpetual mourningfor its vanished glories. She had meant to send it to-day, but all thismisery and anxiety had put it out of her head. 

Having dressed thus, to the great astonishment of Janet, she sat down todivert her mind from trouble by Patience. As if to reward her for herstubborn fortitude, the malignity of the cards relented, and shebrought out an intricate matter three times running. The clock on hermantelpiece chiming a quarter to eight, surprised her with the latenessof the hour, and recalled to her with a stab of pain that it wasdinner-time at Mr. Wyse's, and at this moment some seven pairs of eagerfeet were approaching the door. Well, she was dining at a quarter toeight, too; Janet would enter presently to tell her that her own banquetwas ready, and gathering up her cards, she spent a pleasant thoughregretful minute in looking at herself and the crimson-lake for the lasttime in her long glass. The tremendous walk in the rain had given her analmost equally high colour. Janet's foot was heard on the stairs, andshe turned away from the glass. Janet entered. 

"Dinner?" said Diva. 

"No, ma'am, the telephone, " said Janet. "Mr. Wyse is on the telephone, and wants to speak to you very particularly. "

"Mr. Wyse himself?" asked Diva, hardly believing her ears, for she knewMr. Wyse's opinion of the telephone. 

"Yes, ma'am. "

Diva walked slowly, but reflected rapidly. What must have happened wasthat somebody had been taken ill at the last moment--was itElizabeth?--and that he now wanted her to fill the gap. .. . She was tornin two. Passionately as she longed to dine at Mr. Wyse's, she did notsee how such a course was compatible with dignity. He had only asked herto suit his own convenience; it was not out of encouragement to hopethat he invited her now. No; Mr. Wyse should want. She would say thatshe had friends dining with her; that was what the true lady would do. 

She took up the ear-piece and said, "Hullo!"

It was certainly Mr. Wyse's voice that spoke to her, and it seemed totremble with anxiety. 

"Dear lady, " he began, "a most terrible thing has happened----"

(Wonder if Elizabeth's very ill, thought Diva. )

"Quite terrible, " said Mr. Wyse. "Can you hear?"

"Yes, " said Diva, hardening her heart. 

"By the most calamitous mistake the note which I wrote you yesterday wasnever delivered. Figgis has just found it in the pocket of his overcoat. I shall certainly dismiss him unless you plead for him. Can you hear?"

"Yes, " said Diva excitedly. 

"In it I told you that I had been encouraged to hope that you would dinewith me to-night. There was such a gratifying response to my otherinvitations that I most culpably and carelessly, dear lady, thought thateverybody had accepted. Can you hear?"

"Of course I can!" shouted Diva. 

"Well, I come on my knees to you. Can you possibly forgive the jointstupidity of Figgis and me, and honour me after all? We will put dinneroff, of course. At what time, in case you are ever so kind and indulgentas to come, shall we have it? Do not break my heart by refusing. Su--Mrs. Poppit will send her car for you. "

"I have already dressed for dinner, " said Diva proudly. "Very pleased tocome at once. "

"You are too kind; you are angelic, " said Mr. Wyse. "The car shall startat once; it is at my door now. "

"Right, " said Diva. 

"Too good--too kind, " murmured Mr. Wyse. "Figgis, what do I do next?"

Diva clapped the instrument into place. 

"Powder, " she said to herself, remembering what she had seen in theglass, and whizzed upstairs. Her fish would have to be degraded intokedgeree, though plaice would have done just as well as sole for that;the cutlets could be heated up again, and perhaps the whisking for theapple-meringue had not begun yet, and could still be stopped. 

"Janet!" she shouted. "Going out to dinner! Stop the meringue. "

She dashed an interesting pallor on to her face as she heard the hootingof the Royce, and coming downstairs, stepped into its warmluxuriousness, for the electric lamp was burning. There were Susan'ssables there--it was thoughtful of Susan to put them in, butostentatious--and there was a carriage rug, which she was convinced wasnew, and was very likely a present from Mr. Wyse. And soon there was thelight streaming out from Mr. Wyse's open door, and Mr. Wyse himself inthe hall to meet and greet and thank and bless her. She pleaded for thecontrite Figgis, and was conducted in a blaze of triumph into thedrawing-room, where all Tilling was awaiting her. She was led up to theContessa, with whom Miss Mapp, wreathed in sycophantic smiles, waseagerly conversing. 

The crimson-lakes. .. . 

 * * * * *

There were embarrassing moments during dinner; the Contessa confused byhaving so many people introduced to her in a lump, got all their nameswrong, and addressed her neighbours as Captain Flint and Major Puffin, and thought that Diva was Mrs. Mapp. She seemed vivacious andgood-humoured, dropped her eye-glass into her soup, talked with hermouth full, and drank a good deal of wine, which was a very bad examplefor Major Puffin. Then there were many sudden and complete pauses in thetalk, for Diva's news of the kissing of Mrs. Poppit by the Contessa hadspread like wildfire through the fog this morning, owing to Miss Mapp'sdissemination of it, and now, whenever Mr. Wyse raised his voice ever solittle, everybody else stopped talking, in the expectation that the newswas about to be announced. Occasionally, also, the Contessa addressedsome remark to her brother in shrill and voluble Italian, which ratherconfirmed the gloomy estimate of her table-manners in the matter oftalking with her mouth full, for to speak in Italian was equivalent towhispering, since the purport of what she said could not be understoodby anybody except him. .. . Then also, the sensation of dining with acountess produced a slight feeling of strain, which, in addition to thecorrect behaviour which Mr. Wyse's presence always induced, almostcongealed correctness into stiffness. But as dinner went on her evidentenjoyment of herself made itself felt, and her eccentricities, thoughcarefully observed and noted by Miss Mapp, were not succeeded bysilences and hurried bursts of conversation. 

"And is your ladyship making a long stay in Tilling?" asked the (real)Major, to cover the pause which had been caused by Mr. Wyse sayingsomething across the table to Isabel. 

She dropped her eye-glass with quite a splash into her gravy, pulled itout again by the string as if landing a fish and sucked it. 

"That depends on you gentlemen, " she said with greater audacity than wasusual in Tilling. "If you and Major Puffin and that sweet little Scotchclergyman all fall in love with me, and fight duels about me, I willstop for ever. .. . "

The Major recovered himself before anybody else. 

"Your ladyship may take that for granted, " he said gallantly, and aperfect hubbub of conversation rose to cover this awful topic. 

She laid her hand on his arm. 

"You must not call me ladyship, Captain Flint, " she said. "Only servantssay that. Contessa, if you like. And you must blow away this fog for me. I have seen nothing but bales of cotton-wool out of the window. Tell methis, too: why are those ladies dressed alike? Are they sisters? Mrs. Mapp, the little round one, and her sister, the big round one?"

The Major cast an apprehensive eye on Miss Mapp seated just opposite, whose acuteness of hearing was one of the terrors of Tilling. .. . Hisapprehensions were perfectly well founded, and Miss Mapp hated anddespised the Contessa from that hour. 

"No, not sisters, " said he, "and your la--you've made a little errorabout the names. The one opposite is Miss Mapp, the other Mrs. Plaistow. "

The Contessa moderated her voice. 

"I see; she looks vexed, your Miss Mapp. I think she must have heard, and I will be very nice to her afterwards. Why does not one of yougentlemen marry her? I see I shall have to arrange that. The sweetlittle Scotch clergyman now; little men like big wives. Ah! Marriedalready is he to the mouse? Then it must be you, Captain Flint. We musthave more marriages in Tilling. "

Miss Mapp could not help glancing at the Contessa, as she made thisremarkable observation. It must be the cue, she thought, for theannouncement of that which she had known so long. .. . In the space of awink the clever Contessa saw that she had her attention, and spokerather loudly to the Major. 

"I have lost my heart to your Miss Mapp, " she said. "I am jealous ofyou, Captain Flint. She will be my great friend in Tilling, and if youmarry her, I shall hate you, for that will mean that she likes youbest. "

Miss Mapp hated nobody at that moment, not even Diva, off whose face thehastily-applied powder was crumbling, leaving little red marks peepingout like the stars on a fine evening. Dinner came to an end with roastedchestnuts brought by the Contessa from Capri. 

"I always scold Amelia for the luggage she takes with her, " said Mr. Wyse to Diva. "Amelia dear, you are my hostess to-night"--everybody sawhim look at Mrs. Poppit--"you must catch somebody's eye. "

"I will catch Miss Mapp's, " said Amelia, and all the ladies rose as ifconnected with some hidden mechanism which moved them simultaneously. .. . There was a great deal of pretty diffidence at the door, but theContessa put an end to that. 

"Eldest first, " she said, and marched out, making Miss Mapp, Diva andthe mouse feel remarkably young. She might drop her eye-glass and talkwith her mouth full, but really such tact. .. . They all determined toadopt this pleasing device in the future. The disappointment about theannouncement of the engagement was sensibly assuaged, and Miss Mapp andSusan, in their eagerness to be younger than the Contessa, and yet takeprecedence of all the rest, almost stuck in the doorway. They reboundedfrom each other, and Diva whizzed out between them. Quaint Irene wentin her right place--last. However quaint Irene was, there was no use inpretending that she was not the youngest. 

However hopelessly Amelia had lost her heart to Miss Mapp, she did notdevote her undivided attention to her in the drawing-room, but swiftlyestablished herself at the card-table, where she proceeded, with a mostcomplicated sort of Patience and a series of cigarettes, to while awaythe time till the gentlemen joined them. Though the ladies of Tillinghad plenty to say to each other, it was all about her, and such commentscould not conveniently be made in her presence. Unless, like her, theytalked some language unknown to the subject of their conversation, theycould not talk at all, and so they gathered round her table, and watchedthe lightning rapidity with which she piled black knaves on red queensin some packs and red knaves on black queens in others. She had takenoff all her rings in order to procure a greater freedom of finger, andher eye-glass continued to crash on to a glittering mass of magnificentgems. The rapidity of her motions was only equalled by the swift andsurprising monologue that poured from her mouth. 

"There, that odious king gets in my way, " she said. "So like a man topoke himself in where he isn't wanted. _Bacco!_ No, not that: I have acigarette. I hear all you ladies are terrific bridge-players: we willhave a game presently, and I shall sink into the earth with terror atyour Camorra! _Dio!_ there's another king, and that's his own queen whomhe doesn't want at all. He is _amoroso_ for that black queen, who isquite covered up, and he would like to be covered up with her. Susan, mydear" (that was interesting, but they all knew it already), "kindlyring the bell for coffee. I expire if I do not get my coffee at once, and a toothpick. Tell me all the scandal of Tilling, Miss Mapp, while Iplay--all the dreadful histories of that Major and that Captain. Such agrand air has the Captain--no, it is the Major, the one who does notlimp. Which of all you ladies do they love most? It is Miss Mapp, Ibelieve: that is why she does not answer me. Ah! here is the coffee, andthe other king: three lumps of sugar, dear Susan, and then stir it upwell, and hold it to my mouth, so that I can drink without interruption. Ah, the ace! He is the intervener, or is it the King's Proctor? It wouldbe nice to have a proctor who told you all the love-affairs that weregoing on. Susan, you must get me a proctor: you shall be my proctor. Andhere are the men--the wretches, they have been preferring wine to women, and we will have our bridge, and if anybody scolds me, I shall cry, MissMapp, and Captain Flint will hold my hand and comfort me. "

She gathered up a heap of cards and rings, dropped them on the floor, and cut with the remainder. 

Miss Mapp was very lenient with the Contessa, who was her partner, andpointed out the mistakes of her and their adversaries with the mostwinning smile and eagerness to explain things clearly. Then she revokedheavily herself, and the Contessa, so far from being angry with her, burst into peals of unquenchable merriment. This way of taking a revokewas new to Tilling, for the right thing was for the revoker's partner tosulk and be sarcastic for at least twenty minutes after. The Contessa'slaughter continued to spurt out at intervals during the rest of therubber, and it was all very pleasant; but at the end she said she wasnot up to Tilling standards at all, and refused to play any more. MissMapp, in the highest good-humour, urged her not to despair. 

"Indeed, dear Contessa, " she said, "you play very well. A littleoverbidding of your hand, perhaps, do you think? but that is a tendencywe are all subject to: I often overbid my hand myself. Not a little weerubber more? I'm sure I should like to be your partner again. You mustcome and play at my house some afternoon. We will have tea early, andget a good two hours. Nothing like practice. "

The evening came to an end without the great announcement being made, but Miss Mapp, as she reviewed the events of the party, sitting nextmorning in her observation-window, found the whole evidence sooverwhelming that it was no longer worth while to form conjectures, however fruitful, on the subject, and she diverted her mind to pleasingreminiscences and projects for the future. She had certainly beendistinguished by the Contessa's marked regard, and her opinion of hercharm and ability was of the very highest. .. . No doubt her strangeremark about duelling at dinner had been humorous in intention, but manya true word is spoken in jest, and the Contessa--perspicaciouswoman--had seen at once that Major Benjy and Captain Puffin were justthe sort of men who might get to duelling (or, at any rate, challenging)about a woman. And her asking which of the ladies the men were most inlove with, and her saying that she believed it was Miss Mapp! Miss Mapphad turned nearly as red as poor Diva when that came out, so lightly andyet so acutely. .. . 

Diva! It had, of course, been a horrid blow to find that Diva had beenasked to Mr. Wyse's party in the first instance, and an even shrewderone when Diva entered (with such unnecessary fussing and apology on thepart of Mr. Wyse) in the crimson-lake. Luckily, it would be seen nomore, for Diva had promised--if you could trust Diva--to send it to thedyer's; but it was a great puzzle to know why Diva had it on at all, ifshe was preparing to spend a solitary evening at home. By eight o'clockshe ought by rights to have already had her tray, dressed in some oldthing; but within three minutes of her being telephoned for she hadappeared in the crimson-lake, and eaten so heartily that it wasimpossible to imagine, greedy though she was, that she had alreadyconsumed her tray. .. . But in spite of Diva's adventitious triumph, themain feeling in Miss Mapp's mind was pity for her. She looked soridiculous in that dress with the powder peeling off her red face. Nowonder the dear Contessa stared when she came in. 

There was her bridge-party for the Contessa to consider. The Contessawould be less nervous, perhaps, if there was only one table: that wouldbe more homey and cosy, and it would at the same time give rise to greatheart-burnings and indignation in the breasts of those who were leftout. Diva would certainly be one of the spurned, and the Contessa wouldnot play with Mr. Wyse. .. . Then there was Major Benjy, he must certainlybe asked, for it was evident that the Contessa delighted in him. .. . 

Suddenly Miss Mapp began to feel less sure that Major Benjy must be ofthe party. The Contessa, charming though she was, had said several verytropical, Italian things to him. She had told him that she would stophere for ever if the men fought duels about her. She had said "you deardarling" to him at bridge when, as adversary, he failed to trump herlosing card, and she had asked him to ask her to tea ("with no one else, for I have a great deal to say to you"), when the general macédoine ofsables, au reservoirs, and thanks for such a nice evening took place inthe hall. Miss Mapp was not, in fact, sure, when she thought it over, that the Contessa was a nice friend for Major Benjy. She did not do himthe injustice of imagining that he would ask her to tea alone; the verysuggestion proved that it must be a piece of the Contessa's Southernextravagance of expression. But, after all, thought Miss Mapp toherself, as she writhed at the idea, her other extravagant expressionswere proved to cover a good deal of truth. In fact, the Major's chanceof being asked to the select bridge-party diminished swiftly towardsvanishing point. 

It was time (and indeed late) to set forth on morning marketings, andMiss Mapp had already determined not to carry her capacious basket withher to-day, in case of meeting the Contessa in the High Street. It wouldbe grander and Wysier and more magnificent to go basket-less, and directthat the goods should be sent up, rather than run the risk ofencountering the Contessa with a basket containing a couple of muttoncutlets, a ball of wool and some tooth-powder. So she put on her Princeof Wales's cloak, and, postponing further reflection over thebridge-party till a less busy occasion, set forth in unencumberedgentility for the morning gossip. At the corner of the High Street, sheran into Diva. 

"News, " said Diva. "Met Mr. Wyse just now. Engaged to Susan. All overthe town by now. Everybody knows. Oh, there's the Padre for the firsttime. "

She shot across the street, and Miss Mapp, shaking the dust of Diva offher feet, proceeded on her chagrined way. Annoyed as she was with Diva, she was almost more annoyed with Susan. After all she had done forSusan, Susan ought to have told her long ago, pledging her to secrecy. But to be told like this by that common Diva, without any secrecy atall, was an affront that she would find it hard to forgive Susan for. She mentally reduced by a half the sum that she had determined tosquander on Susan's wedding-present. It should be plated, not silver, and if Susan was not careful, it shouldn't be plated at all. 

She had just come out of the chemist's, after an indignant interviewabout precipitated chalk. He had deposited the small packet on thecounter, when she asked to have it sent up to her house. He could notundertake to deliver small packages. She left the precipitated chalklying there. Emerging, she heard a loud, foreign sort of scream fromclose at hand. There was the Contessa, all by herself, carrying amarketing basket of unusual size and newness. It contained a bloodysteak and a crab. 

"But where is your basket, Miss Mapp?" she exclaimed. "Algernon told methat all the great ladies of Tilling went marketing in the morning withbig baskets, and that if I aspired to be _du monde_, I must have mybasket, too. It is the greatest fun, and I have already written to Ceccoto say I am just going marketing with my basket. Look, the steak is forFiggis, and the crab is for Algernon and me, if Figgis does not get it. But why are you not _du monde_? Are you _du demi-monde_, Miss Mapp?"

She gave a croak of laughter and tickled the crab. .. . 

"Will he eat the steak, do you think?" she went on. "Is he not lively? Iwent to the shop of Mr. Hopkins, who was not there, because he wasengaged with Miss Coles. And was that not Miss Coles last night at mybrother's? The one who spat in the fire when nobody but I was looking?You are enchanting at Tilling. What is Mr. Hopkins doing with MissColes? Do they kiss? But your market basket: that disappoints me, forAlgernon said you had the biggest market-basket of all. I bought thebiggest I could find: is it as big as yours?"

Miss Mapp's head was in a whirl. The Contessa said in the loudestpossible voice all that everybody else only whispered; she displayed (inher basket) all that everybody else covered up with thick layers ofpaper. If Miss Mapp had only guessed that the Contessa would have amarket-basket, she would have paraded the High Street with a leg ofmutton protruding from one end and a pair of Wellington boots from theother. .. . But who could have suspected that a Contessa. .. . 

Black thoughts succeeded. Was it possible that Mr. Wyse had beensatirical about the affairs of Tilling? If so, she wished him nothingworse than to be married to Susan. But a playful face must be put, forthe moment, on the situation. 

"Too lovely of you, dear Contessa, " she said. "May we go marketingtogether to-morrow, and we will measure the size of our baskets? Suchfun I have, too, laughing at the dear people in Tilling. But whatthrilling news this morning about our sweet Susan and your dear brother, though of course I knew it long ago. "

"Indeed! how was that?" said the Contessa quite sharply. 

Miss Mapp was "nettled" at her tone. 

"Oh, you must allow me two eyes, " she said, since it was merely tediousto explain how she had seen them from behind a curtain kissing in thegarden. "Just two eyes. "

"And a nose for scent, " remarked the Contessa very genially. 

This was certainly coarse, though probably Italian. Miss Mapp's opinionof the Contessa fluctuated violently like a barometer before a storm andindicated "Changeable. "

"Dear Susan is such an intimate friend, " she said. 

The Contessa looked at her very fixedly for a moment, and then appearedto dismiss the matter. 

"My crab, my steak, " she said. "And where does your nice Captain, no, Major Flint live? I have a note to leave on him, for he has asked me totea all alone, to see his tiger skins. He is going to be my flirt whileI am in Tilling, and when I go he will break his heart, but I will havetold him who can mend it again. "

"Dear Major Benjy!" said Miss Mapp, at her wits' end to know how to dealwith so feather-tongued a lady. "What a treat it will be to him to haveyou to tea. To-day, is it?"

The Contessa quite distinctly winked behind her eyeglass, which she hadput up to look at Diva, who whirled by on the other side of the street. 

"And if I said 'To-day, '" she remarked, "you would--what is it that thatone says"--and she indicated Diva--"yes, you would pop in, and the goodMajor would pay no attention to me. So if I tell you I shall go to-day, you will know that is a lie, you clever Miss Mapp, and so you will go totea with him to-morrow and find me there. _Bene!_ Now where is hishouse?"

This was a sort of scheming that had never entered into Miss Mapp'slife, and she saw with pain how shallow she had been all these years. Often and often she had, when inquisitive questions were put her, answered them without any strict subservience to truth, but never hadshe thought of confusing the issues like this. If she told Diva a lie, Diva probably guessed it was a lie, and acted accordingly, but she hadnever thought of making it practically impossible to tell whether it wasa lie or not. She had no more idea when she walked back along the HighStreet with the Contessa swinging her basket by her side, whether thatlady was going to tea with Major Benjy to-day or to-morrow or when, thanshe knew whether the crab was going to eat the beefsteak. 

"There's his house, " she said, as they paused at the dentist's corner, "and there's mine next it, with the little bow-window of my garden-roomlooking out on to the street. I hope to welcome you there, dearContessa, for a tiny game of bridge and some tea one of these days verysoon. What day do you think? To-morrow?"

(Then she would know if the Contessa was going to tea with Major Benjyto-morrow . .. Unfortunately the Contessa appeared to know that she wouldknow it, too. )

"My flirt!" she said. "Perhaps I may be having tea with my flirtto-morrow. "

Better anything than that. 

"I will ask him, too, to meet you, " said Miss Mapp, feeling in someawful and helpless way that she was playing her adversary's game. "Adversary?" did she say to herself? She did. The inscrutable Contessawas "up to" that too. 

"I will not amalgamate my treats, " she said. "So that is his house! Whata charming house! How my heart flutters as I ring the bell!"

Miss Mapp was now quite distraught. There was the possibility that theContessa might tell Major Benjy that it was time he married, but on theother hand she was making arrangements to go to tea with him on anunknown date, and the hero of amorous adventures in India and elsewheremight lose his heart again to somebody quite different from one whom hecould hope to marry. By daylight the dear Contessa was undeniably plain:that was something, but in these short days, tea would be conducted byartificial light, and by artificial light she was not so like a rabbit. What was worse was that by any light she had a liveliness which might bemistaken for wit, and a flattering manner which might be taken forsincerity. She hoped men were not so easily duped as that, and was sadlyafraid that they were. Blind fools!

 * * * * *

The number of visits that Miss Mapp made about tea-time in this weekbefore Christmas to the post-box at the corner of the High Street, withan envelope in her hand containing Mr. Hopkins's bill for fish (and apostal order enclosed), baffles computation. Naturally, she did notintend, either by day or night, to risk being found again with a blankunstamped envelope in her hand, and the one enclosing Mr. Hopkins's billand the postal order would have passed scrutiny for correctness, anywhere. But fair and calm as was the exterior of that envelope, nonecould tell how agitated was the hand that carried it backwards andforwards until the edges got crumpled and the inscription clouded withmuch fingering. Indeed, of all the tricks that Miss Mapp had compassedfor others, none was so sumptuously contrived as that in which she hadnow entangled herself. 

For these December days were dark, and in consequence not only would theContessa be looking her best (such as it was) at tea-time, but from MissMapp's window it was impossible to tell whether she had gone to tea withhim on any particular afternoon, for there had been a strike at thegas-works, and the lamp at the corner, which, in happier days, wouldhave told all, told nothing whatever. Miss Mapp must therefore trudge tothe letter-box with Mr. Hopkins's bill in her hand as she went out, and(after a feint of posting it) with it in her pocket as she came back, inorder to gather from the light in the windows, from the sound ofconversation that would be audible as she passed close beneath them, whether the Major was having tea there or not, and with whom. Should shehear that ringing laugh which had sounded so pleasant when she revoked, but now was so sinister, she had quite determined to go in and borrow abook or a tiger-skin--anything. The Major could scarcely fail to ask herto tea, and, once there, wild horses should not drag her away until shehad outstayed the other visitor. Then, as her malady of jealousy grewmore feverish, she began to perceive, as by the ray of some dreadfuldawn, that lights in the Major's room and sounds of elfin laughter werenot completely trustworthy as proofs that the Contessa was there. It waspossible, awfully possible, that the two might be sitting in thefirelight, that voices might be hushed to amorous whisperings, thatpregnant smiles might be taking the place of laughter. On one suchafternoon, as she came back from the letter-box with patient Mr. Hopkins's overdue bill in her pocket, a wild certainty seized her, whenshe saw how closely the curtains were drawn, and how still it seemedinside his room, that firelight dalliance was going on. 

She rang the bell, and imagined she heard whisperings inside while itwas being answered. Presently the light went up in the hall, and theMajor's Mrs. Dominic opened the door. 

"The Major is in, I think, isn't he, Mrs. Dominic?" said Miss Mapp, inher most insinuating tones. 

"No, miss; out, " said Dominic uncompromisingly. (Miss Mapp wondered ifDominic drank. )

"Dear me! How tiresome, when he told me----" said she, with playfulannoyance. "Would you be very kind, Mrs. Dominic, and just see forcertain that he is not in his room? He may have come in. "

"No, miss, he's out, " said Dominic, with the parrot-like utterance ofthe determined liar. "Any message?"

Miss Mapp turned away, more certain than ever that he was in andimmersed in dalliance. She would have continued to be quite certainabout it, had she not, glancing distractedly down the street, caughtsight of him coming up with Captain Puffin. 

Meantime she had twice attempted to get up a cosy little party of four(so as not to frighten the Contessa) to play bridge from tea tilldinner, and on both occasions the Faradiddleony (for so she had become)was most unfortunately engaged. But the second of these disappointingreplies contained the hope that they would meet at their marketingsto-morrow morning, and though poor Miss Mapp was really getting verytired with these innumerable visits to the post-box, whether wet orfine, she set forth next morning with the hopes anyhow of finding outwhether the Contessa had been to tea with Major Flint, or on what dayshe was going. .. . There she was, just opposite the post office, andthere--oh, shame!--was Major Benjy on his way to the tram, inlight-hearted conversation with her. It was a slight consolation thatCaptain Puffin was there too. 

Miss Mapp quickened her steps to a little tripping run. 

"Dear Contessa, so sorry I am late, " she said. "Such a lot of littlethings to do this morning. (Major Benjy! Captain Puffin!) Oh, hownaughty of you to have begun your shopping without me!"

"Only been to the grocer's, " said the Contessa. "Major Benjy has been soamusing that I haven't got on with my shopping at all. I have written toCecco to say that there is no one so witty. "

(Major Benjy! thought Miss Mapp bitterly, remembering how long it hadtaken her to arrive at that. "And witty. " She had not arrived at thatyet. )

"No, indeed!" said the Major. "It was the Contessa, Miss Mapp, who hasbeen so entertaining. "

"I'm sure she would be, " said Miss Mapp, with an enormous smile. "And, oh, Major Benjy, you'll miss your tram unless you hurry, and get no golfat all, and then be vexed with us for keeping you. You men always blameus poor women. "

"Well, upon my word, what's a game of golf compared with the pleasure ofbeing with the ladies?" asked the Major, with a great fat bow. 

"I want to catch that tram, " said Puffin quite distinctly, and Miss Mappfound herself more nearly forgetting his inebriated insults than everbefore. 

"You poor Captain Puffin, " said the Contessa, "you shall catch it. Beoff, both of you, at once. I will not say another word to either of you. I will never forgive you if you miss it. But to-morrow afternoon, MajorBenjy. "

He turned round to bow again, and a bicycle luckily (for the rider)going very slowly, butted softly into him behind. 

"Not hurt?" called the Contessa. "Good! Ah, Miss Mapp, let us get to ourshopping! How well you manage those men! How right you are about them!They want their golf more than they want us, whatever they may say. Theywould hate us, if we kept them from their golf. So sorry not to havebeen able to play bridge with you yesterday, but an engagement. What abusy place Tilling is. Let me see! Where is the list of things thatFiggis told me to buy? That Figgis! A roller-towel for his pantry, andsome blacking for his boots, and some flannel I suppose for his fatstomach. It is all for Figgis. And there is that swift Mrs. Plaistow. She comes like a train with a red light in her face and wheels andwhistlings. She talks like a telegram--Good-morning, Mrs. Plaistow. "

"Enjoyed my game of bridge, Contessa, " panted Diva. "Delightful game ofbridge yesterday. "

The Contessa seemed in rather a hurry to reply. But long before shecould get a word out Miss Mapp felt she knew what had happened. .. . 

"So pleased, " said the Contessa quickly. "And now for Figgis's towels, Miss Mapp. Ten and sixpence apiece, he says. What a price to give for atowel! But I learn housekeeping like this, and Cecco will delight in allthe economies I shall make. Quick, to the draper's, lest there should beno towels left. "

In spite of Figgis's list, the Contessa's shopping was soon over, andMiss Mapp having seen her as far as the corner, walked on, as if to herown house, in order to give her time to get to Mr. Wyse's, and then fledback to the High Street. The suspense was unbearable: she had to knowwithout delay when and where Diva and the Contessa had played bridgeyesterday. Never had her eye so rapidly scanned the movement ofpassengers in that entrancing thoroughfare in order to pick Diva out, and learn from her precisely what had happened. .. . There she was, comingout of the dyer's with her basket completely filled by a bulky package, which it needed no ingenuity to identify as the late crimson-lake. Shewould have to be pleasant with Diva, for much as that perfidious womanmight enjoy telling her where this furtive bridge-party had taken place, she might enjoy even more torturing her with uncertainty. Diva could, ifput to it, give no answer whatever to a direct question, but, skilfullychanging the subject, talk about something utterly different. 

"The crimson-lake, " said Miss Mapp, pointing to the basket. "Hope itwill turn out well, dear. "

There was rather a wicked light in Diva's eyes. 

"Not crimson-lake, " she said. "Jet-black. "

"Sweet of you to have it dyed again, dear Diva, " said Miss Mapp. "Notvery expensive, I trust?"

"Send the bill in to you, if you like, " said Diva. 

Miss Mapp laughed very pleasantly. 

"That would be a good joke, " she said. "How nice it is that the dearContessa takes so warmly to our Tilling ways. So amusing she was aboutthe commissions Figgis had given her. But a wee bit satirical, do youthink?"

This ought to put Diva in a good temper, for there was nothing she likedso much as a few little dabs at somebody else. (Diva was not verygood-natured. )

"She is rather satirical, " said Diva. 

"Oh, tell me some of her amusing little speeches!" said Miss Mappenthusiastically. "I can't always follow her, but you are so quick! Alittle coarse too, at times, isn't she? What she said the other nightwhen she was playing Patience, about the queens and kings, wasn'tquite--was it? And the toothpick. "

"Yes. Toothpick, " said Diva. 

"Perhaps she has bad teeth, " said Miss Mapp; "it runs in families, andMr. Wyse's, you know--We're lucky, you and I. "

Diva maintained a complete silence, and they had now come nearly as faras her door. If she would not give the information that she knew MissMapp longed for, she must be asked for it, with the uncertain hope thatshe would give it then. 

"Been playing bridge lately, dear?" asked Miss Mapp. 

"Quite lately, " said Diva. 

"I thought I heard you say something about it to the Contessa. Yesterday, was it? Whom did you play with?"

Diva paused, and, when they had come quite to her door, made up hermind. 

"Contessa, Susan, Mr. Wyse, me, " she said. 

"But I thought she never played with Mr. Wyse, " said Miss Mapp. 

"Had to get a four, " said Diva. "Contessa wanted her bridge. Nobodyelse. "

She popped into her house. 

There is no use in describing Miss Mapp's state of mind, except bysaying that for the moment she quite forgot that the Contessa was almostcertainly going to tea with Major Benjy to-morrow. 

CHAPTER XII

"Peace on earth and mercy mild, " sang Miss Mapp, holding her head backwith her uvula clearly visible. She sat in her usual seat close belowthe pulpit, and the sun streaming in through a stained glass windowopposite made her face of all colours, like Joseph's coat. Not knowinghow it looked from outside, she pictured to herself a sort of celestialradiance coming from within, though Diva, sitting opposite, wasreminded of the iridescent hues observable on cold boiled beef. Butthen, Miss Mapp had registered the fact that Diva's notion of singingalto was to follow the trebles at the uniform distance of a minor thirdbelow, so that matters were about square between them. She wonderedbetween the verses if she could say something very tactful to Diva, which might before next Christmas induce her not to make that noise. .. . 

Major Flint came in just before the first hymn was over, and held histop-hat before his face by way of praying in secret, before he openedhis hymn-book. A piece of loose holly fell down from the window ledgeabove him on the exact middle of his head, and the jump that he gavewas, considering his baldness, quite justifiable. Captain Puffin, MissMapp was sorry to see, was not there at all. But he had been unwelllately with attacks of dizziness, one of which had caused him, in thelast game of golf that he had played, to fall down on the eleventh greenand groan. If these attacks were not due to his lack of perseverance, noright-minded person could fail to be very sorry for him. 

There was a good deal more peace on earth as regards Tilling than mighthave been expected considering what the week immediately beforeChristmas had been like. A picture by Miss Coles (who had greatlydropped out of society lately, owing to her odd ways) called "Adam, "which was certainly Mr. Hopkins (though no one could have guessed) hadappeared for sale in the window of a dealer in pictures and curios, buthad been withdrawn from public view at Miss Mapp's personal intercessionand her revelation of whom, unlikely as it sounded, the picturerepresented. The unchivalrous dealer had told the artist the history ofits withdrawal, and it had come to Miss Mapp's ears (among many otherthings) that quaint Irene had imitated the scene of intercession withsuch piercing fidelity that her servant, Lucy-Eve, had nearly died oflaughing. Then there had been clandestine bridge at Mr. Wyse's house onthree consecutive days, and on none of these occasions was Miss Mappasked to continue the instruction which she had professed herselfperfectly willing to give to the Contessa. The Contessa, in fact--thereseemed to be no doubt about it--had declared that she would sooner notplay bridge at all than play with Miss Mapp, because the effort of notlaughing would put an un-warrantable strain on those muscles whichprevented you from doing so. .. . Then the Contessa had gone to tea quitealone with Major Benjy, and though her shrill and senseless monologuewas clearly audible in the street as Miss Mapp went by to post herletter again, the Major's Dominic had stoutly denied that he was in, andthe notion that the Contessa was haranguing all by herself in hisdrawing-room was too ridiculous to be entertained for a moment. .. . AndDiva's dyed dress had turned out so well that Miss Mapp gnashed herteeth at the thought that she had not had hers dyed instead. With somegreen chiffon round the neck, even Diva looked quite distinguished--forDiva. 

Then, quite suddenly, an angel of Peace had descended on the distractedgarden-room, for the Poppits, the Contessa and Mr. Wyse all went away tospend Christmas and the New Year with the Wyses of Whitchurch. It wasprobable that the Contessa would then continue a round of visits withall that coroneted luggage, and leave for Italy again without revisitingTilling. She had behaved as if that was the case, for taking advantageof a fine afternoon, she had borrowed the Royce and whirled round thetown on a series of calls, leaving P. P. C. Cards everywhere, and sayingonly (so Miss Mapp gathered from Withers) "Your mistress not in? Sosorry, " and had driven away before Withers could get out the informationthat her mistress was very much in, for she had a bad cold. 

But there were the P. P. C. Cards, and the Wyses with their futureconnections were going to Whitchurch, and after a few hours of rageagainst all that had been going on, without revenge being now possible, and of reaction after the excitement of it, a different reaction set in. Odd and unlikely as it would have appeared a month or two earlier, whenTilling was seething with duels, it was a fact that it was possible tohave too much excitement. Ever since the Contessa had arrived, she hadbeen like an active volcano planted down among dangerously inflammableelements, and the removal of it was really a matter of relief. Miss Mappfelt that she would be dealing again with materials whose properties sheknew, and since, no doubt, the strain of Susan's marriage would soonfollow, it was a merciful dispensation that the removal of the volcanogranted Tilling a short restorative pause. The young couple would beback before long, and with Susan's approaching elevation certainly goingto her head, and making her talk in a manner wholly intolerable aboutthe grandeur of the Wyses of Whitchurch, it was a boon to be allowed torecuperate for a little, before settling to work afresh to combatSusan's pretensions. There was no fear of being dull: for plenty ofthings had been going on in Tilling before the Contessa flared on theHigh Street, and plenty of things would continue to go on after she hadtaken her explosions elsewhere. 

By the time that the second lesson was being read the sun had shiftedfrom Miss Mapp's face, and enabled her to see how ghastly dear Evielooked when focussed under the blue robe of Jonah, who was climbing outof the whale. She had had her disappointments to contend with, for theContessa had never really grasped at all who she was. Sometimes shemistook her for Irene, sometimes she did not seem to see her, but neverhad she appeared fully to identify her as Mr. Bartlett's wee wifey. Butthen, dear Evie was very insignificant even when she squeaked herloudest. Her best friends, among whom was Miss Mapp, would not denythat. She had been wilted by non-recognition; she would recover again, now that they were all left to themselves. 

The sermon contained many repetitions and a quantity of splitinfinitives. The Padre had once openly stated that Shakespeare was goodenough for him, and that Shakespeare was guilty of many splitinfinitives. On that occasion there had nearly been a breach between himand Mistress Mapp, for Mistress Mapp had said, "But then you are notShakespeare, dear Padre. " And he could find nothing better to reply than"Hoots!". .. . There was nothing more of interest about the sermon. 

At the end of the service Miss Mapp lingered in the church looking atthe lovely decorations of holly and laurel, for which she was so largelyresponsible, until her instinct assured her that everybody else hadshaken hands and was wondering what to say next about Christmas. Then, just then, she hurried out. 

They were all there, and she came like the late and honoured guest (PoorDiva). 

"Diva, darling, " she said. "Merry Christmas! And Evie! And the Padre. Padre dear, thank you for your sermon! And Major Benjy! Merry Christmas, Major Benjy. What a small company we are, but not the less Christmassy. No Mr. Wyse, no Susan, no Isabel. Oh, and no Captain Puffin. Not quitewell again, Major Benjy? Tell me about him. Those dreadful fits ofdizziness. So hard to understand. "

She beautifully succeeded in detaching the Major from the rest. With thepeace that had descended on Tilling, she had forgiven him for havingbeen made a fool of by the Contessa. 

"I'm anxious about my friend Puffin, " he said. "Not at all up to themark. Most depressed. I told him he had no business to be depressed. It's selfish to be depressed, I said. If we were all depressed it wouldbe a dreary world, Miss Elizabeth. He's sent for the doctor. I was tohave had a round of golf with Puffin this afternoon, but he doesn't feelup to it. It would have done him much more good than a host of doctors. "

"Oh, I wish I could play golf, and not disappoint you of your round, Major Benjy, " said she. 

Major Benjy seemed rather to recoil from the thought. He did notprofess, at any rate, any sympathetic regret. 

"And we were going to have had our Christmas dinner together to-night, "he said, "and spend a jolly evening afterwards. "

"I'm sure quiet is the best thing for Captain Puffin with hisdizziness, " said Miss Mapp firmly. 

A sudden audacity seized her. Here was the Major feeling lonely asregards his Christmas evening: here was she delighted that he should notspend it "jollily" with Captain Puffin . .. And there was plenty ofplum-pudding. 

"Come and have your dinner with me, " she said. "I'm alone too. "

He shook his head. 

"Very kind of you, I'm sure, Miss Elizabeth, " he said, "but I think I'llhold myself in readiness to go across to poor old Puffin, if he feels upto it. I feel lost without my friend Puffin. "

"But you must have no jolly evening, Major Benjy, " she said. "So bad forhim. A little soup and a good night's rest. That's the best thing. Perhaps he would like me to go in and read to him. I will gladly. Tellhim so from me. And if you find he doesn't want anybody, not even you, well, there's a slice of plum-pudding at your neighbour's, and such awarm welcome. "

She stood on the steps of her house, which in summer were so crowdedwith sketchers, and would have kissed her hand to him had not Diva beenfollowing close behind, for even on Christmas Day poor Diva was capableof finding something ill-natured to say about the most tender andwomanly action . .. And Miss Mapp let herself into her house with only alittle wave of her hand. .. . 

Somehow the idea that Major Benjy was feeling lonely and missing thequarrelsome society of his debauched friend was not entirely unpleasingto her. It was odd that there should be anybody who missed CaptainPuffin. Who would not sooner play golf all alone (if that was possible)than with him, or spend an evening alone rather than with hiscompanionship? But if Captain Puffin had to be missed, she wouldcertainly have chosen Major Benjy to be the person who missed him. Without wishing Captain Puffin any unpleasant experience, she would haveborne with equanimity the news of his settled melancholia, or hispermanent dizziness, for Major Benjy with his bright robustness was notthe sort of man to prove a willing comrade to a chronically dizzy ormelancholic friend. Nor would it be right that he should be so. Men inthe prime of life were not meant for that. Nor were they meant to be thevictims of designing women, even though Wyses of Whitchurch. .. . He wassaved from that by their most opportune departure. 

In spite of her readiness to be interrupted at any moment, Miss Mappspent a solitary evening. She had pulled a cracker with Withers, andseverely jarred a tooth over a threepenny-piece in the plum-pudding, butthere had been no other events. Once or twice, in order to see what thenight was like, she had gone to the window of the garden-room, and beenaware that there was a light in Major Benjy's house, but when half-pastten struck, she had despaired of company and gone to bed. A littlecarol-singing in the streets gave her a Christmas feeling, and she hopedthat the singers got a nice supper somewhere. 

Miss Mapp did not feel as genial as usual when she came down tobreakfast next day, and omitted to say good-morning to her rainbow ofpiggies. She had run short of wool for her knitting, and Boxing Dayappeared to her a very ill-advised institution. You would have imagined, thought Miss Mapp, as she began cracking her egg, that the tradespeoplehad had enough relaxation on Christmas Day, especially when, as on thisoccasion, it was immediately preceded by Sunday, and would have been allthe better for getting to work again. She never relaxed her efforts fora single day in the year, and why----

An overpowering knocking on her front-door caused her to stop crackingher egg. That imperious summons was succeeded by but a moment ofsilence, and then it began again. She heard the hurried step of Withersacross the hall, and almost before she could have been supposed to reachthe front door, Diva burst into the room. 

"Dead!" she said. "In his soup. Captain Puffin. Can't wait!"

She whirled out again and the front door banged. 

Miss Mapp ate her egg in three mouthfuls, had no marmalade at all, andputting on the Prince of Wales's cloak tripped down into the HighStreet. Though all shops were shut, Evie was there with hermarket-basket, eagerly listening to what Mrs. Brace, the doctor's wife, was communicating. Though Mrs. Brace was not, strictly speaking, "insociety, " Miss Mapp waived all social distinctions, and pressed her handwith a mournful smile. 

"Is it all too terribly true?" she asked. 

Mrs. Brace did not take the smallest notice of her, and, dropping hervoice, spoke to Evie in tones so low that Miss Mapp could not catch asingle syllable except the word soup, which seemed to imply that Divahad got hold of some correct news at last. Evie gave a shrill littlescream at the concluding words, whatever they were, as Mrs. Bracehurried away. 

Miss Mapp firmly cornered Evie, and heard what had happened. CaptainPuffin had gone up to bed last night, not feeling well, without havingany dinner. But he had told Mrs. Gashly to make him some soup, and hewould not want anything else. His parlour-maid had brought it to him, and had soon afterwards opened the door to Major Flint, who, learningthat his friend had gone to bed, went away. She called her master in themorning, and found him sitting, still dressed, with his face in the soupwhich he had poured out into a deep soup-plate. This was very odd, andshe had called Mrs. Gashly. They settled that he was dead, and rang upthe doctor, who agreed with them. It was clear that Captain Puffin hadhad a stroke of some sort, and had fallen forward into the soup which hehad just poured out. .. . 

"But he didn't die of his stroke, " said Evie in a strangled whisper. "Hewas drowned. "

"Drowned, dear?" said Miss Mapp. 

"Yes. Lungs were full of ox-tail, oh, dear me! A stroke first, and hefell forward with his face in his soup-plate and got his nose and mouthquite covered with the soup. He was drowned. All on dry land and in hisbedroom. Too terrible. What dangers we are all in!"

She gave a loud squeak and escaped, to tell her husband. 

 * * * * *

Diva had finished calling on everybody, and approached rapidly. 

"He must have died of a stroke, " said Diva. "Very much depressed lately. That precedes a stroke. "

"Oh, then, haven't you heard, dear?" said Miss Mapp. "It is all tooterrible! On Christmas Day, too!"

"Suicide?" asked Diva. "Oh, how shocking!"

"No, dear. It was like this. .. . "

 * * * * *

Miss Mapp got back to her house long before she usually left it. Hercook came up with the proposed bill of fare for the day. 

"That will do for lunch, " said Miss Mapp. "But not soup in the evening. A little fish from what was left over yesterday, and some toastedcheese. That will be plenty. Just a tray. "

Miss Mapp went to the garden-room and sat at her window. 

"All so sudden, " she said to herself. 

She sighed. 

"I daresay there may have been much that was good in Captain Puffin, "she thought, "that we knew nothing about. "

She wore a wintry smile. 

"Major Benjy will feel very lonely, " she said. 

EPILOGUE

Miss Mapp went to the garden-room and sat at her window. .. . 

It was a warm, bright day of February, and a butterfly was enjoyingitself in the pale sunshine on the other window, and perhaps (so MissMapp sympathetically interpreted its feelings) was rather annoyed thatit could not fly away through the pane. It was not a white butterfly, but a tortoise-shell, very pretty, and in order to let it enjoy itselfmore, she opened the window and it fluttered out into the garden. Beforeit had flown many yards, a starling ate most of it up, so the starlingenjoyed itself too. 

Miss Mapp fully shared in the pleasure first of the tortoise-shell andthen of the starling, for she was enjoying herself very much too, thoughher left wrist was terribly stiff. But Major Benjy was so cruel: heinsisted on her learning that turn of the wrist which was so importantin golf. 

"Upon my word, you've got it now, Miss Elizabeth, " he had said to heryesterday, and then made her do it all over again fifty times more. ("Such a bully!") Sometimes she struck the ground, sometimes she struckthe ball, sometimes she struck the air. But he had been very muchpleased with her. And she was very much pleased with him. She forgotabout the butterfly and remembered the starling. 

It was idle to deny that the last six weeks had been a terrific strain, and the strain on her left wrist was nothing to them. The worst tensionof all, perhaps, was when Diva had bounced in with the news that theContessa was coming back. That was so like Diva: the only foundation forthe report proved to be that Figgis had said to her Janet that Mr. Wysewas coming back, and either Janet had misunderstood Figgis, or Diva(far more probably) had misunderstood Janet, and Miss Mapp only hopedthat Diva had not done so on purpose, though it looked like it. Stupidas poor Diva undoubtedly was, it was hard for Charity itself to believethat she had thought that Janet really said that. But when this reportproved to be totally unfounded, Miss Mapp rose to the occasion, and saidthat Diva had spoken out of stupidity and not out of malice towardsher. .. . 

Then in due course Mr. Wyse had come back and the two Poppits had comeback, and only three days ago one Poppit had become a Wyse, and they hadall three gone for a motor-tour on the Continent in the Royce. Verylikely they would go as far south as Capri, and Susan would stay withher new grand Italian connections. What she would be like when she gotback Miss Mapp forbore to conjecture, since it was no use anticipatingtrouble; but Susan had been so grandiose about the Wyses, multiplyingtheir incomes and their acreage by fifteen or twenty, so Miss Mappconjectured, and talking so much about county families, that theliveliest imagination failed to picture what she would make of theFaragliones. She already alluded to the Count as "My brother-in-lawCecco Faraglione, " but had luckily heard Diva say "Faradiddleony" in aloud aside, which had made her a little more reticent. Susan had takenthe insignia of the Member of the British Empire with her, as she atonce conceived the idea of being presented to the Queen of Italy byAmelia, and going to a court ball, and Isabel had taken her manuscriptbook of Malaprops and Spoonerisms. If she put down all the Italianmalaprops that Mrs. Wyse would commit, it was likely that she wouldbring back two volumes instead of one. 

Though all these grandeurs were so rightly irritating, the departure ofthe "young couple" and Isabel had left Tilling, already shocked andshattered by the death of Captain Puffin, rather flat and purposeless. Miss Mapp alone refused to be flat, and had never been so full ofpurpose. She felt that it would be unpardonably selfish of her if sheregarded for a moment her own loss, when there was one in Tilling whosuffered so much more keenly, and she set herself with admirablesingleness of purpose to restore Major Benjy's zest in life, and fillthe gap. She wanted no assistance from others in this: Diva, forinstance, with her jerky ways would be only too apt to jar on him, andher black dress might remind him of his loss if Miss Mapp had asked herto go shares in the task of making the Major's evenings less lonely. Also the weather, during the whole of January, was particularlyinclement, and it would have been too much to expect of Diva to come allthe way up the hill in the wet, while it was but a step from the Major'sdoor to her own. So there was little or nothing in the way ofwinter-bridge as far as Miss Mapp and the Major were concerned. Piquetwith a single sympathetic companion who did not mind being rubiconned atthreepence a hundred was as much as he was up to at present. 

With the end of the month a balmy foretaste of spring (such as hadencouraged the tortoiseshell butterfly to hope) set in, and the Majorused to drop in after breakfast and stroll round the garden with her, smoking his pipe. Miss Mapp's sweet snowdrops had begun to appear, andgreen spikes of crocuses pricked the black earth, and the sparrows werehaving such fun in the creepers. Then one day the Major, who was goingout to catch the 11. 20 tram, had a "golf-stick, " as Miss Mapp sofoolishly called it, with him, and a golf-ball, and after making adreadful hole in her lawn, she had hit the ball so hard that itrebounded from the brick-wall, which was quite a long way off, and cameback to her very feet, as if asking to be hit again by thegolf-stick--no, golf-club. She learned to keep her wonderfully observanteye on the ball and bought one of her own. The Major lent her amashie--and before anyone would have thought it possible, she hadlearned to propel her ball right over the bed where the snowdrops grew, without beheading any of them in its passage. It was the turn of thewrist that did that, and Withers cleaned the dear little mashieafterwards, and put it safely in the corner of the garden-room. 

To-day was to be epoch-making. They were to go out to the real links bythe 11. 20 tram (consecrated by so many memories), and he was to call forher at eleven. He had qui-hied for porridge fully an hour ago. 

After letting out the tortoise-shell butterfly from the window lookinginto the garden, she moved across to the post of observation on thestreet, and arranged snowdrops in a little glass vase. There were a fewover when that was full, and she saw that a reel of cotton was close athand, in case she had an idea of what to do with the remainder. Eleveno'clock chimed from the church, and on the stroke she saw him coming upthe few yards of street that separated his door from hers. So punctual!So manly!

Diva was careering about the High Street as they walked along it, andMiss Mapp kissed her hand to her. 

"Off to play golf, darling, " she said. "Is that not grand? Aureservoir. "

Diva had not missed seeing the snowdrops in the Major's button-hole, andstood stupefied for a moment at this news. Then she caught sight ofEvie, and shot across the street to communicate her suspicions. QuaintIrene joined then and the Padre. 

"Snowdrops, i'fegs!" said he. .. . 

_Printed at The Chapel River Press, Kingston, Surrey. _

 +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Notes and Errata | | | | The following words were found in both hyphenated and | | unhyphenated form in the text. The number of instances of | | each is given in parentheses. | | | | |book-case (4) |bookcase (1) | | | |dress-maker's (1) |dress-maker's (1) | | | |dress-maker (1) |dress-maker (1) | | | |eye-glass (4) |eyeglass (4) | | | |parlour-maid (3) |parlourmaid (5) | | | |tea-gown (9) |teagown (2) | | | |tip-toed (1) |tiptoed (2) | | | |tortoise-shell (3) |tortoiseshell (1) | | | | | The following typographical errors were corrected: | | | | |Error |Correction | | | |appraoch |approach | | | |aleady |already | | | |Consciousnness |Consciousness | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+