But for all that they had rather rubbed Dorothy's job in at lunch that day, and, when they had tired of doing so directly, had continued to do so indirectly by asking, in altered tones, questions about Amory and what she was doing. When (they wanted to know) _was_ that show of hers going to be? _Why_ didn't she hurry Hamilton Dix up? Didn't Amory know that that Harris girl was painting all her subjects and had one at the Essex Gallery now? A talent like Amory's!---- "You'd better come and ask her," Dorothy had replied. "Why not all come round to-night? Cosimo, you're quite near, and Laura could fetch her guitar----" "No! Really?" Cosimo had broken out in his glad, rich voice. "I say, shall we all go?" "I'm on," Walter Wyron had cried eagerly. "You could fetch your guitar, couldn't you, Laura?" "And Amory hasn't heard Walter's new recitation----" "Good. We'll come." "Rather!" And now Dorothy was hurrying to Cheyne Walk to help Amory to prepare. She reached the room over the greengrocer's shop at half-past four, and found Amory in a long pinafore, painting. "You needn't knock off," she said, when she had made her announcement; "I'll go out and buy in." But whether it was that Amory was in difficulties with her work, or whether her pulse had suddenly bounded at the thought of a party really after her own heart, she threw down her palette. "Oh no, rather not!" she cried. "I'll come with you. Just half a minute; I'll wash my brushes when we come back. How ripping!" Joyously she snatched down from the hook her porringer hat; her eyes shone as she thrust the enamel-headed pins through it. She had not seen Cosimo for several weeks, the others for months and months, and she was pining, simply pining, for a party that a rational person could enjoy. So excited was she, and so full of the preparations for their guests, that she quite forgot their own dinner; it was Dorothy who stopped at the butcher's for three-quarters of a pound of steak, and, at the confectioner's remembered the Chelsea buns. At a wine-shop they bought a flask of Chianti, and at a grocer's nuts, biscuits, and a box of dates. Walter and Cosimo could be relied on to provide cigarettes, and oranges and bananas were to be had at the shop downstairs. As the clock of Chelsea Church struck five they descended Oakley Street again, so laden with parcels that the disturbance of a single package or paper bag would have meant the spilling of the lot. For the oranges and bananas Amory went downstairs again. By the time she returned Dorothy had taken a brush and was making ready to sweep. "Oh, please," said Amory, "just a minute till I've put my canvas out of the way--and it won't take me three minutes to clean my palette and wash my brushes----" She carried her wet canvas out on to the landing beyond the warped door.