"Never be late," continued Mrs. Barraclough, rallying her resources for a new oration, "although I was late once for a flower show at Weston-super-Mare--or was it a funeral, Anthony? At any rate, there were a lot of flowers there, so it may have been a wedding or a garden party. But really, I mustn't stay a moment longer. I've got to see a Mrs. Brassbound--poor dear, she's--Anthony, go away, you mustn't listen--I'm going to treat you as friends--there's going to be a baby--she's the wife of our village constable, you know--such a nice man--but as I've always said, Policemen will be Policemen." "Yes, yes, yes," said Harrison Smith, whose patience was running out, "very interesting. I have a friend staying at the hotel. I wonder if I might use your telephone." Mrs. Barraclough caught the warning in Anthony's eyes as she gave her consent. Also she caught a glint of light from the rose cutters that lay on the sofa. What more natural than for a hostess to be seated while her guest made his call and what more fortunate than the fact that the telephone wire passed over the arm of the sofa on its way to the insulator in the floor. The snip of the scissors as she cut the wire was quite inaudible because of the good lady's flow of remarks on the subject of telephony. "They may keep you waiting," she said and kept on chattering until Harrison Smith hung up the receiver in despair of being connected with his ally Bolt. "And now, Madam, I feel sure we have kept you much too long," he said. "You'd better be off, Mother," said Anthony, who although vaguely aware that she was endeavouring to create an atmosphere of vacuity, could not fathom the advantage to be gained. "I'm going, dear, I'm going. I was thinking, that's all." "Thinking," came from Dirk. "Wondering if you two gentlemen could eat mutton. My dear brother who died in '93 had very strong views about mutton, especially when it was cold. He said----" But the prospect of hearing what he said so shook the good manners of her visitors that they almost breasted her toward the bedroom door. They would probably have succeeded in their object had not Flora hurried in from the garden. "The doctor is with her now," said Flora. "I've got the car ready." Mrs. Barraclough became almost hysterical. There was no limit to the instructions she showered upon the hapless Flora. Were the vegetables in the car? Had she been sent for? Was Mr. Brassbound there, and finally, had Flora put the "you know" into the basket? "The 'you know,'" said Flora, hazily. "Silly, silly girl," wailed Mrs. Barraclough. "Sergeant Ealing, do excuse me whispering to my maid, but it is so difficult to speak out in public." She dropped her voice to a confidential whisper only for the briefest space and Flora nodded gravely and said: "Yes, Madam, I quite understand," and went out.