"That's it--asbestos. I didn't expect to see you drive off down the road, somehow," continued Nicky in a somewhat injured voice, "just like an ordinary couple. I thought Polly would stamp his foot on the lawn, and a chasm would yawn at your feet, and in you'd both pop, and you would be gone for ever, like--Ally, who were those two people in the Latin book you had for a holiday task?" "What you want, Nicky," responded Mr Aloysuis Vereker, "is chloroform. Do you mean Pluto and Proserpine?" "That's it--Proserpine. Well, Proserpine, what are you going to do to entertain your little brothers and sisters this afternoon?" "Anything you like," said Proserpine, endeavouring to balance herself on the top bar of the gate. "How about making toffee down in the Den?" There was a chorus of approval. Nursery customs die hard. Even the magnificent Ally found it difficult to shake off the glamour of this youthful dissipation. "I'll tell you what," continued Daphne, warming up to the occasion, "we'll have a regular farewell feast. We'll send down to the shop and get some buns and chocolates and gingerbeer, and--and----" "Bananas," suggested Tony. "Nuts," added Cilly. "Cigarettes," said Ally. "Who has got any money?" inquired Nicky. The family fumbled in its pockets. "Here's threepence--all I have," said Cilly at length. "Twopence," said Ally, laying the sum on Cilly's threepenny bit. "Awfully sorry," said Stiffy, "but I'm afraid I've only got a stamp. It's still quite gummy at the back, though," he added hopefully. "They'll take it." Tony produced a halfpenny. "You can search _me_, friends!" was Nick's despairing contribution. "I have fourpence," said the bride--"not a penny more. I handed over all the spare housekeeping money to Dad this morning. That only makes tenpence-halfpenny, counting Stiffy's stamp." She sighed wistfully. "And I did so want to give you all a treat before I went! Well, we must do without the nuts and chocolates, and----" Nicky rose to her feet, swelling with sudden inspiration. "Daph, what's the matter with running along to this millionaire young man of yours and touching _him_ for a trifle?" she inquired triumphantly. Daphne hesitated. True, to-morrow she would be a rich man's wife, able to afford unlimited gingerbeer. But the idea of asking a man for money did not appeal to her. Pride of poverty and maidenly reserve make an obstinate mixture. Yet the flushed and eager faces of Nicky and Tony, the polite deprecations of the selfless Stiffy, and the studied indifference of Cilly and Ally, were hard to resist. "I wonder if he would mind," she said doubtfully. "Mind? Oh, no. Why should he?" urged the chorus respectfully. "Have a dart for it, anyhow," said Nicky. Daphne descended from the gate.