“Oh quite,” said Georgie, who was determined not to let his ice melt. “Yes: I had tea at Olga’s, and we had the most wonderful weedj. Just she and the Princess and Daisy and I.” Lucia gave her silvery peal of laughter. It sounded as if it had “turned” a little in this hot weather, or got a little tarnished. “Dear Daisy!” she said. “Is she not priceless? How she adores her conjuring tricks and hocus-pocuses! Tell me all about it. An Egyptian guide: Abfou, was it not?” Georgie thought it might be wiser not to tell Lucia all that Abfou had vouchsafed, unless she really insisted, for Abfou had written the most sarcastic things about her in perfect English at top-speed. He had called her a snob again, and said she was too grand now for her old friends, and had been really rude about her shingled hair. “Yes, Abfou,” he said. “Abfou was in great form, and Olga has telegraphed for a planchette. Abfou said she was most psychical, and had great mediumistic gifts. Well, that went on a long time.” “What else did Abfou say?” asked Lucia, fixing Georgie with her penetrating eye. “Oh, he talked about Riseholme affairs,” said Georgie. “He knew the Princess had been to the Museum, for he had seen her there. It was he, you know, who suggested the Museum. He kept writing Museum, though we thought it was ‘Mouse’ at first.” Lucia felt perfectly certain in her own mind that Abfou had been saying things about her. But perhaps, as it was Daisy who had been operating, it was better not to ask what they were. Ignorance was not bliss, but knowledge might be even less blissful. And Georgie was not thawing: he was polite, he was reserved, but so far from chatting, he was talking with great care. She must get him in a more confidential mood. “That reminds me,” she said. “Pepino and I haven’t given you anything for the Museum yet. I must send you the Elizabethan spit from my music-room. They say it is the most perfect spit in existence. I don’t know what Pepino didn’t pay for it.” “How kind of you,” said Georgie. “I will tell the committee of your offer. Olga gave us a most magnificent present yesterday: the manuscript of ‘Lucrezia,’ which Cortese had given her. I took it to the Museum directly after breakfast, and put it in the glass case opposite the door.” Again Lucia longed to be as sarcastic as Abfou, and asked whether a committee meeting had been held to settle if this should be accepted. Probably Georgie had some perception of that, for he went on in a great hurry. “Well, the weedj lasted so long that I had only just time to get home to dress for dinner and go back to Olga’s,” he said. “Who was there?” asked Lucia. “Colonel and Mrs. Boucher, that’s all,” said Georgie. “And after dinner Olga sang too divinely. I played her accompaniments. A lot of Schubert songs.”