Our removal into Pastimes--like every other removal since the time when man began to live beneath a roof--took far longer than we expected. I went back to Ireland to gather my possessions, and say good-bye, and Charmion stayed in London to hurry up tradesmen, and make uninteresting purchases of pots and pans, and dusters and door scrapers, and the other needfuls which every house must have, but which are so dull to buy. When I joined her in the hotel, I found her in a state of haughty displeasure over the extraordinary delay which was attending the work at Pastimes itself. In another person this state of mind would have found vent in "fuming," but Charmion never fumed. She folded her hands, and drooped her white lids, and drawled in a tone of incredulous disgust:-- "I can't understand it. I _told_ them to be quick. I expressly stipulated that they were not to potter." "Apparently they are not even `pottering'! They have not begun at all!" I said grimly, as I ran my eye down the letter just received from the "man in charge". It was the ordinary, ultra-polite, ultra-servile production of the tradesman who has _not_ kept his word. "Dear Madam,--Owing to a press of other work, I regret that I have not been able to commence--" "Commence! Odious word. It is adding insult to injury to use it. And what can he mean? He seemed so keen about the order. Said he was so slack that he would be able to put on all his hands!" "I shall write and tell him to do so at once," said Charmion magnificently, and I held my peace and let her do it, knowing that it would be no use to object, and hoping that at least her letter might succeed in extracting some more definite information. It did! This was it:-- "Madam,--I beg to inform you that Mr Maplestone having rented the house known as `Uplands,' on behalf of General Underwood, and placed urgent orders with us for its re-decoration, we are regretfully compelled to delay operations at Pastimes for some weeks. We are making all possible speed with the present contract, and beg to assure you that your work shall then be finished with all despatch. "We have the honour to remain, etcetera." Charmion and I looked at one another, and looked, and looked, and looked. We were both thinking hard--thinking backward, thinking ahead. Exactly what we thought neither of us put into words; we just sat silently and stared, until presently Charmion rose, marched over to her writing-table, and scribbled a few words on a telegram form. Then she held it out for me to read:-- "Order for decorations at Pastimes cancelled herewith." "Do you approve?" "Er--oh, yes, of course--I suppose so. But how shall we--" "That's easily arranged. Any town firm will be glad of the order. It will be more expensive, but will probably be better done. In any case we have no choice." "It's such a tiny village. Where could the men sleep?"