Mr. Palmer looked quickly at the dish as it was handed her. 'What mess is that?' he asked. 'Pigeons once,' said she; 'it won't be anything in a minute or two.' 'There ought to be mushrooms in the stew. It's meant to be _à la Toulon_. I've forgotten more about cookery than our present _chef_ ever knew.' Amelie laughed. 'Poor papá! what a lot you must forget! I guess you're failing. Well, I've regretfully finished my lunch. Are you going treadmilling?' 'Yes. Who comes down with your mother?' 'Mrs. Massington and Lord Keynes. The others come on Saturday--Mrs. Emsworth, Bilton, and that lot. Papa, I've thought of the right name for Reggie Armstrong at last. It's Ping-pong. He's just that.' Mr. Palmer considered this. 'Yes, Ping-pong is about the size. Small set, though. Come and treadmill, Amelie.' She got up and stretched herself, then let one arm fall round her father's neck. 'There are schemes in the air,' she said to him, as they walked out. 'But on the day you see me marry Ping-pong you may tie me up by the heels to Tamburlaine's tail.' From which it may be seen that either Amelie was charmingly lacking in the wisdom of the world, or that her mother had more of it than one would have guessed. CHAPTER VII Mrs. Palmer's house-party, which was to be with her during the week of the 'Revels,' as they were called, had arrived at Mon Repos the same afternoon. Mon Repos had been taking its rest in its usual relentless manner, and Bertie Keynes and Mrs. Massington were beginning to get into training. It had dawned on them both very soon that they were engaged in the exercise of the most strenuous mental and physical activity that their dawdling English lives had ever known. The whole party breakfasted together in a marquee on the lawn, and from that moment till after the ensuing midnight were engaged _ohne rast_ with a prodigious quantity of _hast_ in a continuous social effort. Bathing, boating, bridge (the two latter simultaneously) lasted till lunch; these and similar pursuits, all executed in the dazzling light, in the dazzling crowd, and largely to the dazzling sound of a band, went on without pause till dinner, after which was a short one-act play in the theatre, followed by a 'quiet dance.' After one day of it Mrs. Massington's quick perceptions made discoveries which she communicated to Bertie. 'You are here to play up,' she said, 'and not to amuse yourself. Don't drink any wine at lunch, and very little at dinner.' 'Then I shall die,' said Bertie.