Now the two maids began to fly to and fro. Now Mr. Gleeson set out chairs on the lawn at the back in preparation for an overflow meeting. Now furniture was moved and the pianoforte opened. Now one of the maids ran across to hire twenty cups and saucers, and returned from the shop with the message that only regular customers were obliged in this way; the cups and saucers could be purchased, or they could be let alone, but no third alternative existed. Mr. Gleeson went over his speech once more and, on the suggestion of his wife, introduced a more pronounced tone of geniality, leaving out some of the sterner views concerning the value of friendship. Mrs. Gleeson’s sketches were set in a good position. Mr. Gleeson tried “I am a Jolly Mariner,” and decided he had found himself in worse voice. At seven o’clock they were ready for the thirty-five guests, and Mr. Gleeson snatched a few moments to practise a smile of welcome, one that would indicate gratification without degenerating into a broad grin. “We shall find them rather difficult at first,” he mentioned. “I must get you to help me, my dear, to make them feel thoroughly at home from the very outset. Wish you had thought to order some crackers.” “Sorry!” “In Stepney, if you remember, the pulling of these and the wearing of paper caps at once put everybody at their ease. What’s the time now?” She exhibited her watch. “Mary asked the constable just now whether anything of the kind had ever been arranged before and he said ‘No.’” “Did he say anything else?” asked Mr. Gleeson. “He added ‘And never won’t again, neither.’” “The ability of peering into the future,” he remarked, nettled, “is a gift denied even to the village policeman. He seems to have the idea that no one can do right excepting himself.” “There’s a knock.” Please, ma’am (announced Mary), Mr. Crutchley, the butcher, has sent over to know whether we want a joint for Sunday, because if so we had better say so in good time. Ask the messenger (replied Mrs. Gleeson) to tell Crutchley that we shall only trouble him in the case of chops and steaks; the larger orders have been placed in town. Very well, ma’am. Mary, returning three minutes later, apologised for the message she had now to deliver; Crutchley sent word that where the Gleesons procured their joints there they could procure their chops and steaks; Crutchley told the messenger to add that he was not in the habit of being under an obligation to any one. “I disliked the man,” declared Mr. Gleeson warmly, “from the very first. Understand, my dear, please, that not another penny of mine is to be spent in his shop—not another halfpenny.” Another ring, and Mary, with a look of greater satisfaction, announced the vicar.