Later, at tea, father had just observed that, like the Ephesians, we were ’in danger to be called in question for this day’s uproar,’ when a telegram was brought to him. ’The tone of this household will have to buck up a bit,’ he remarked as he read it. ’It will after to-morrow,’ grinned Charlie Foxhill, ’when Meg’s gone, sir.’ (For oh, to-morrow is my wedding day, just fancy.) ’It’s got to buck up before that,’ father replied; ’this wire is from the new Bishop of Ligeria, he’s coming here this afternoon and wants to stop the night. He’ll have to stay on for the wedding, of course.’ ’Oh, daddy,’ I exclaimed in great disgust, ’we can’t have this Ligerian fossil here to-morrow, it’ll spoil everything, besides, there isn’t a bed.’ ’He’ll have to sleep in his suit-case then, and his chaplain in the lid, Meg; there’s no time to put him off, and _do_ try to behave like ’a clergyman’s daughter’ while he’s here, little ’un! Why, good gracious!’ For there was the Bishop of Ligeria, and a livid kind of chaplain who looked like a limp curl-paper, alighting at the front door from a motor-car. Daddy rushed out into the hall and I after him. I wished I had had time to change into something black, as father seemed so anxious to make a good impression on the Bishop, but I managed to part my hair in the middle by the hall glass and I turned the collar of my blouse up instead of down. And then one of those terrible delusions came over me, for I thought father seized the Bishop by the hand and shook it violently, exclaiming,— ’Hallo, Porky, what priceless luck.’ ’What about that ten bob, old bean?’ said Porky. Then father turned and saw _me_ with my hair parted down the middle, and the _chaplain_, partially paralysed with horror. ’My daughter, me lud,’ he said, and led the Bishop and his attendant into the drawing-room for a belated tea. I got away as soon as I could. I felt I must have quiet to think things out. Is this another delusion, or did father really call a Bishop ’Porky’? Nannie said once that putting the feet in hot water draws the blood from the head and eases mental strain, so I decided to have a bath before dinner. I ran into daddy in the corridor. ’Meg, you’ve torn the lace on your dressing-gown; I told you so yesterday. Why isn’t it mended?’ ’Cotton,’ I wailed, ’is threepence a reel.’ ’Bad as that, Meg?’ ’Worse, my honoured parent, worse.’ ’Wild oats, Meg?’ ’Sacks.’ ’Debts?’ I nodded. ’Tell me the uttermost, my erring child.’ ’Fourpence to Nannie, and five and threepence to Ross.’ I escaped into the bathroom and slammed the door. I sang a hymn as I bathed; it was that one the children love so, ’Days and Moments Quickly Flying.’ I thought it might help to restore the tone of the household.