Going upstairs to put on her hat Edith Greene's mind was busy over the choice of flowers for the table. White flowers seemed to her the most ceremonial but she rejected chrysanthemums as being too clumsy and lilies of the valley as being reminiscent of the sick room. I must strike the right note with my flowers, she thought. I want the whole thing to be sufficiently important. Lilies, of course, Madonna lilies, so suitable both for old Mrs. Greene and Jessica; they would be exactly right. Her face cleared and she went briskly out, confident that the scene was set for the evening's play. II It was only twenty-five to eight when Rayner opened the door to Lavinia. "You are early, Madam," he said as he took her cloak, "I don't think anyone is down yet." "I know I am; I wondered if there was a chance of seeing Grannie before the others arrived. Do you suppose she will be down soon?" "I don't know at all, but I can send Mary up to tell her you are here." "Yes do, Rayner; go and tell her now, I'll go up to the drawing-room." On the upper landing Lavinia stopped to look at her reflection, tiny and faintly distorted, in a small convex mirror that had delighted her as a child. She was wearing for the first time, in deference to her Mother's wishes, a yellow velvet frock, quite plain, very full skirted, and, in the fashion of the moment, short in front but dipping almost to the ground behind. Suddenly she took her wide skirt in either hand, and curtsied very low to her own image. The mirror was flooded with the yellow of her frock, but as she rose and straightened herself the small grotesque reflection was re-established. The drawing-room was in darkness except for the leaping firelight but she switched on the small lamp beside the fire, and sat down thinking dreamily how pretty it would be if a group of ladies in long old-fashioned frocks were to assemble there that night. We would have to kiss Grannie's hand and Mother's too I suppose, and Helen and Jessica and I would curtsey very low to each other and say "Sister," and "Your servant, Sister." And there would be so much swaying and rustling of silks that it would seem like sixty Mrs. Greenes instead of six. She sighed as she looked forward to the evening ahead. Really it will be quite ordinary, she decided; a little flutter of excitement as each one comes in and then perfectly ordinary conversation. Aunt Sarah rather prim, and Grannie very crisp, and Aunt Dora pretty doleful, and Mother managing everything, and keeping us all in our proper places. She stood up, and leaning against the mantel-piece looked round the shadowy room. Everything was orderly: the soft puce curtains hung in beautifully symmetrical folds, a bowl of giant chrysanthemums stood on a table, each petal tightly curled, the firelight shone on a vivid Chinese vase standing on a little lacquer cabinet between the windows. An air of stillness and expectation hung over the room.