“It’s all right, darling,” cried Madge. “It’s a dream. They’re not gooseberries at all. They’re cherries—blue cherries, and the shape’s rather like one—I wonder if you remember; I wore it at Henley last year, and it had a crushed strawberry——” “Time,” said Crispin. “Maudlin memories of discarded headgear are bad for my heart. I only introduced this ghastly topic to illustrate the fugacity of women’s raiment. The hats you chose to-day will be out of date before they’re married.” “I don’t think so,” said Madge. “I’m trying to buy well ahead. Of course——” “One moment,” said David. “D’you mean to say that there’s even a possibility of such a thing?” “Well, I’m a little bit anxious about that velvet toque. You see——” A howl of dismay interrupted her. “My favourite?” cried David. “The wicked one that dips over the left eye?” He threw up his hands. “Why, properly cared for, there’s years of wear in that hat.” “Years of wear?” shrieked the girls. “Years,” yelled Herrick. “An’ then it could be done up.” There was a roar of laughter. “You see?” said Crispin. “He hasn’t the remotest idea. Never mind. To-morrow Nell and I are looking at furnished flats.” Eleanor made a little mouth. “Much,” she announced, “against my will. A house would have been much nicer. Still, I accept your ruling.” “My dear,” purred Madge, “I know what servants are. You’re sure to strike some wash-outs in your first twelve months—real old soldiers, I mean. They’re like vultures. They can smell a newly married couple five miles off. And a house is so unwieldy.” “I know, but——” David put in his oar. “Give me an undress wedding, and you shall have your house.” “Not on your life,” said Eleanor. “Besides, if you really loved me you’ld do as I want.” “Ugh,” said David, “she’s wheedling me.” He cleared his throat. “Nothing doing,” he said sternly. “Besides, if you worshipped me, you’ld—you’ld hang upon my lips.” “I think,” said Eleanor demurely, “I think I—I might . . . in a house.” “I’ll back the lady,” shouted Crispin. “I’ll lay five to one—six—ten . . . ten sovereigns to one sovereign the lady gets her way.” “Taken,” said Madge. “David, stick to your guns. The Court of Appeal’s behind you. Besides, I’ve had some. If you take a house before you’ve got the right servants you’ll be buying trouble in red.” Eleanor gave her _fiancé_ a melting look. “David darling,” she murmured, “don’t you think that this once we could upset the Court of Appeal? After all, we’ve got to live in it—you . . . and I.” She blushed exquisitely. Herrick writhed. “Be strong,” shrieked Madge, “be strong. Think of the housemaids saying they can’t stick the stairs and the cook complaining of the damp and the charwomen——” “Ch-charwomen?” stammered David.