In this Sir Evelyn was perfectly sincere. Beth, at the instigation of Mrs. Eames, had written a number of very nice paragraphs about him. Since his retirement from public life, after the fall of the Government, his name had dropped out of the newspapers. He missed, more than he would have cared to confess, the daily bundle of press cuttings which used to come to him from an industrious agent in London. Beth's flattering Lispings were "good news from a far country," which, as Solomon says with all his usual wisdom, is like "cold water to a thirsty soul." "And how is your aunt?" said Sir Evelyn. "But I dare say I can give you the latest news of her. She lunched with me three days ago. We were discussing the details of her very interesting scheme for a local pageant. Her idea--it is entirely hers. I do no more than help her with such crumbs of historical knowledge as I possess. Her idea--but I'm sure you've heard about it." "Oh, rather," said Beth. "I've heard of nothing else for weeks. Almost daily letters from Aunt Agatha. I'm working hard at the publicity side of the affair. Mary has just agreed to be a patron as representative of the dramatic world." "Miss Lambert's name," said Sir Evelyn with a courteous bow, "will go far to secure success." "I'm in it too," said Jimmy. "Beth roped me in as a patron this morning." "Jimmy represents the world of sport," said Beth. "I'm delighted to hear," said Sir Evelyn, "that Jimmy is going to do something useful at last. Your good influence, no doubt, Miss Appleby." "Hang it all, Uncle Evie!" said Jimmy. "I'm not such a rotter as all that. Look at the way I've been supporting home industry, knocking out unemployment and all that sort of rot by buying cars like the Pallas Athene. Very few fellows would do it." "You may perhaps be able to help us," said Sir Evelyn, "in the matter of securing a suitable lugger. The luggers used in the contraband trade during the latter part of the eighteenth century were of the type known as _chasse-marée_, designed originally in France. But I fear that these details will not interest you young ladies." "They thrill us," said Beth. "Don't they Mary?" "Of course," said Mary. She had been stifling yawns with difficulty for some time past and feared that a talk about eighteenth century French boats was not likely to keep her awake. She just managed to say her "of course" in tones of conviction. Sir Evelyn suggested that the party should go to his study, where he could exhibit pictures of _chasse-marées_, some of them actually engaged in smuggling. He had also--Mary struggled desperately against overwhelming sleepiness--books with diagrams, showing the lines on which the boats were built. A couple of hours later, when Beth and Mary had gone to bed, Sir Evelyn had a conversation with his nephew on a very different subject.