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Ok... sigh... I shouldn't be doing this... I really am caving... I should be waiting for more replies... but I am not... b/c I am a sucker for the puppy dog eyes... and everyone I have run into is giving me them... and it's... so mean of you all.

Okay.. let's see...

Cindi -- you replied twice... so... I'll answer both of yours first. <reads> Mhm... Mhm... Mhm... mmm... Mhmm. Ok. My answer is, Only on Tuesdays. Thanks!

Wiccanbotanist -- don't worry.. begging isn't necessary, b/c obviously I am a sucker. I don't think my blackmailing scheme is working as well as I thought it would.... Oh well.. Yes, everyone relies on Willow to do their dirty work... perhaps b/c if she gets caught.. all anyone does is shrugs. She's so silly of course she's going to get caught in ridiculous situations... or so they think.

Debra -- Well, Willow is the "Bertie Wooster" of this story, so she is going to behave more like a male of the period than a female... but I look at it like this... the women's movement was in full swing then.. and all about women having the same rights as men. Well, think about it. Willow sees all these men being lazy... and she thinks, well, it's my right to be lazy too!! So she is. And, I find it funny that everyone seems to think she's a heavy drinker based on one mention of a hang-over... she's not that bad, people!! LOL

russ -- Dangit!! I really was hoping to get an explosion of "!!" out of you this time... Well... this next bit will do the trick... let's see what happens when Willow's gelatin spine tries to do a little dirty work....

Read On!!!

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From breakfast on I felt like a bag-snatcher at a railway station. I had to hang about waiting for the parcel to be put on the hall table, and it wasnt put. Uncle Willoughby was a fixture in the library, adding the finishing touches to the great work, I supposed, and the more I thought the thing over, the less I liked it. The chances against me pulling it off seemed about three to two, and the thought of what would happen if I didnt gave me cold shivers down the spine. Uncle Willoughby was a pretty mild sort of old boy, as a rule, but Ive known him to cut up rough, and, by Jove, he was scheduled to extend himself if he caught me trying to get away with his lifes work.

To top it all, I had the broodings of my Aunt Sheilas scheme bouncing about in my forehead. The old girl had popped off on the train before I had a chance to really settle in with the plan. The idea seemed hearty enough, and gratefully light on the labor, at least for my end of it, but still, there was something quite rummy about the whole thing. But then, I had always been a bit short on brain myself: the old bean seemed to be constructed more for ornament than for use, dont you know? I decided to wait for good old Lumps to arrive, along with this American-girl-Maclay-whats-it and have a good strong dash at it.

At nearly four Uncle Willoughby toddled out of the library with the parcel under his arm, put it on the table, then toddled off again. I was hiding a bit to the southeast at the moment, behind a suit of armor. I bounded out and legged it for the table. Then I nipped upstairs to hide the swag. I charged in like a mustang and nearly stubbed my toe on young, blighted Connor, the Boy Scout. He was standing at the chest of drawers, confound him, messing about with my gloves.

Hallo! he said.

What are you doing here?

Im tidying your room. Its my last Saturdays act of kindness.

Last Saturdays?

Im five days behind. I was six till last night, but I polished your shoes.

Was it you

Yes. Did you see them? I just happened to think of it. I was in here, looking around. Mr. Berkeley had this room while you were away. He left this morning. I thought perhaps he might have left something in it that I could have sent on. Ive often done acts of kindness that way.

You must be a comfort to one and all! I said rather grumpily.

It became more and more apparent to me that this infernal kid must somehow be turned out eftsoons or right speedily. I had hidden the parcel behind my back, and I didnt think he had seen it; but I wanted to get to that chest of drawers quick, before anyone else came along.

I shouldnt bother about tidying the room. I said.

I like tidying it. Its not a bit of trouble really.

But its quite tidy now.

Not as tidy as I shall make it.

This was getting perfectly rotten. I didnt want to murder the kid, and yet there didnt seem to be any other way of shifting him. I pressed down the mental accelerator. The old lemon throbbed fiercely. I got an idea.

Theres something much kinder than that which you could do, I said. You see that box of cigars? Its for your brother. Take it down to the smoking room and snip the ends off for me. That would save me no end of trouble. Stagger along, laddie.

He seemed a bit doubtful; but he staggered. I shoved the parcel into a drawer, locked it, pocketed the key, and felt better. I may be a chump, but, dash it, I could out-general a mere kid with a face like a ferret. I turned to head downstairs and found Giles looming in the doorway like a greatwelllike a great looming-thing, dont you know. The blighter nearly scared the buttons off my gloves.

Excuse me, miss.

Good Heavens!

Terribly sorry to disturb, miss.

Yesnowhat is it?

Theres a Miss Maclay to see you.

Already?

You were expecting her later, miss?

Well, ICome to think of it, I didnt know when she would arrive. Has Lumps arrived as well?

Lumps, miss?

My cousin, the young Mr. Harrison-Phipps.

Not as yet, miss.

Dash it. Well, then, show me to her.

Miss Maclay is awaiting you in the downstairs hall.

I expect my eyes must have goggled at that revelation.

The hall?! I said. Hasnt she been shown in? The notion seemed simply barbaric.

Oakshott informed me, miss, that she was rather firm about waiting for you there.

Firm, you say?

Indeed, miss.

Well, thank you, Giles. Thatll be all, I expect, for now.

Very good, miss.

I went downstairs again. Just as I was passing the smoking room door, out curveted Connor. It seemed to me that if he wanted to do a real act of kindness he would commit suicide.

Im snipping them, he said.

Snip on! Snip on!

Do you like them snipped much, or only a bit?

Medium.

All right. Ill be getting on then.

I should.

And we parted.

I entered the front hall and there I discovered a deucedly pretty girl. What happened now was that I began, as it were, to drink her in. She was rather small, like me, with great big eyes and a ripping smile, not to mention the most-lovely flaxen hair since, well, ever, really.

Quite instantly I saw the unknowable flaw in my Aunt Sheilas plan. The girl I was to set Lumpy fancying for was a girl I found myself rather fancying. On sight, mind you! The old ticky-tock was a blighted fool when it came to deucedly pretty girls. Id spent countless hours trying my best to re-educate the organ to the proper ways of beating; my engagement to Daniel Osbourne was sort of the final round of exams, dont you know? But here it was and it seemed that the old thumper was just as stubborn at learning as the old melon. There was nothing to do but set it aside, and press forward.

Hallo! I said, cheerily on the approach.

Hello.

Rum, I thought. She had the voice of an angel with an American accent. I realized then that the setting aside of things was going to be markedly more difficult than previously anticipated.

Willow Rosenby.

Tara Maclay.

Yes, my Aunt Sheila warned youd be coming.

Warned?

Dash it all, Id worried her, and not three sentences in.

Oh, well, what I mean to say is that she gave us notice youd be arriving. So the staff would be prepared; not only the staff, of course, but the rest of us as well, dont you know? Not that youre coming to Easeby is on the particular intriguingNot to say that it isnt, mind you! Your company is quite welcome here at the old whats-it-called. I myself am quite bucked.

I came to a stop when Id finally run out of air.

Are you alright?

Topping!

There was an unfortunately brutal pause.

I hope I didnt cause too much trouble, she said.

Trouble? I was confounded.

By asking the butler to let me wait in the hall.

Oh that? Pish-tosh.

He seemed a little upset.

Well, you know butlers.

Not really. She said, Daddy has never cared for them, so, weve never had one.

Well, I suppose theres nothing wrong with serving ones own tea, or folding ones own shirts.

She shook her head rather shyly, and then sort of glanced away. If this girl proved any more adorable, I feared I would have to chain myself to my room out of concern of making a greater fool of myself than I already was.

Speaking of tea, I went on, would you care for some? Its rather that time.

Alright.

I gestured that she should follow me and we made our way down the hall.

The smoking-rooms just up ahead, I said. We can take our tea in there.

Im afraid I dont smoke.

The way she said it made it sound like the most sincere apology since my cousin Winifreds brother Wesley accidentally ran over her prized terrier Maxmillians tail with an overloaded barrow of wild berries. I felt it best to reassure the dear girl.

I dont either. I said. Disgusting habit, really.

Just then, blighted Connor popped out of the room with the box I had sent him in with.

Heres your cigars. Ive snipped them all for you, medium, like you asked.

I glanced to Miss Maclay, then back at the horrible kid in front of me. Both regarded me with peevish sort of looks. For whatever reason, I made the decision to dodge.

I say, young chappie, you must have me confused with one of the other guests.

Are you mad? You only just gave me these to snip.

I dare say not. I never touch the things.

But I was in your room when you gave them to me.

Well, I must have been in the wrong room then, mustnt I?

Youre balmy!

I may very well be, but those are not my cigars!

Well, Im not keeping them!

If I may, Miss Maclay interjected. Perhaps the easiest way to settle this is to return the box to the room where you found it. Then the true owner, whoever they are, will be sure to find it again.

The little devil hesitated a moment, then grumbled something under his breath and legged it for the stairs. I let out the deepest draft of air Id ever taken in. This girl was perfectly marvelous! Though I couldnt help but notice the knowing gaze she struck me with at the whoever they are bit of her wording.

Shall we have a dash at the drawing room? I said. Ive always felt the view out the window is quite agreeable.

I led the way and we proceeded to take our tea.

Tara Maclay was one of those very quiet, appealing girls who have a way of looking at you with their big eyes as if they thought you were the greatest thing on Earth and wondered that you hadnt got onto it yet yourself. She made me feel that there was nothing I wouldnt do for her. She was rather like one of those innocent-tasting American drinks which creep imperceptibly into your system so that, before you know what youre doing, youre starting out to reform the world by force if necessary and pausing on your way to tell the large man in the corner that, if he looks at you like that, you will knock his head off. What I mean is, she made me feel alert and dashing, like a jolly old knight-errant or something of that kind. I found her absolutely ripping!

Dreaded was the thought of turning her over to good old Lumpy when the time came.

*****

TBC....

All Disclaimers Apply
Note: There is a link attached to a term I use in this update... so that if you don't know what it means, you can find out
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Morning, Giles, I said.

Good Morning, miss, said Giles.

Every other maid Ive ever had would barge into my room in the morning while I was still asleep, causing much misery: but Giles seemed to know when I was awake by a sort of telepathy. He floated in exactly two minutes after I came to life and set a good old cup of tea softly on the table by my bed. Makes a deuce of a difference in a girls day.

Hows the weather, Giles?

Exceptionally clement, miss.

I took a refreshing sip. Just right. Not too hot, not too sweet, not too weak, not too strong, not too much milk and not a drop spilled on the saucer. Dashed competent this fellow, Giles.

Might I ask you something, Giles?

I am open to all inquiries, miss.

What do you think of this Maclay girl? For my cousin, Lumpy, I mean.

She seems to be an admirable young lady of both intelligence and spirit, miss. A gentleman such as your cousin would be quite lucky to have her at his side.

I bit my lip a moment and considered.

Yes, Id say youre right. I hated to concede the notion, but there it was for the world to see.

He started to put out my things, and there was an awkward sort of silence.

Not those stockings, Giles, I said, gulping a bit but having a dash at the careless, off-hand tone. Give me the purple ones.

I beg your pardon, miss?

Those jolly purple ones.

Very good, miss.

He lugged them out of the drawer as if he were a vegetarian fishing a caterpillar out of the salad. You could see he was feeling deeply. Deuced painful and all that, this sort of thing, but a person has got to assert herself every now and then.

I took breakfast in my room, and as I sat champing on my egg, I set a keen stare on the chest of drawers harboring my Uncles manuscript.

Daniel had talked in an airy sort of way about destroying the piece of work; but when it came down to it, how the deuce can a girl destroy a great chunky mass of paper in somebody elses house in the middle of the summer? I couldnt ask to have a fire in my bedroom with the thermometer in the eighties. And if I didnt burn the thing, how else could I get rid of it? Fellows on the battlefield eat dispatches to keep them from falling into the hands of the enemy, but it would have taken me a year to eat Uncle Willoughbys Recollections.

Im bound to say the problem absolutely baffled me. The only thing seemed to be to leave the parcel in the drawer and hope for the best.

Jeeves filtered into the room.

Excuse, miss, but Mr. Harrison-Phipps and company has arrived.

Lumpys finally about, you say? But whats this and company business, Giles?

An elder, portly gentleman and a rather alert young lady have arrived with him, miss. Im sorry to report I have not yet acquired their names. Mr. Oakshott appeared quite agitated at the prospect of readying two additional rooms.

What, pipped?

He gave that impression, miss.

Its no wonder, what with American girls loitering about hallways and now guests showing up unannounced.

Yes, miss.

Well, I suppose I ought to rally round and meet the old cos.

Very good, miss.

******

After a brief search of the house, I discovered Lumpy outside in the garden, knocking at some golf-balls with a crochet mallet. I called after him, but he didnt hear me, so I legged it over and gave his shoulder a keen tap.

He turned and stared at me.

Willow! What on Earth are you doing? Where have you sprung from? When did you arrive?

Dearest Lumpy, hadnt Aunt Sheila told you?

Told me what?

That you were sent here that you and I might have a word?

No. He said, the telegram merely stated that I was to come to Easeby at once.

He paused, and his face seemed to adopt a softened expression.

It is terribly good to see you, Willow.

He wrapped an arm about my shoulders and gave a warm squeeze.

You too, my dear old Lumpy.

His soft expression turned to one of mild annoyance. He stepped away and straightened up a bit.

Please dont call me that. Im going by Nick Wilson now.

Why on Earth?

Well, you try calling yourself Lumpy Harrison-Phipps when youre getting into the biz and see how it strikes you. You feel a perfect ass.

The biz? I had no idea what he was going on about.

Ill explain later. Willow, Ive fallen in love with the dearest girl in the world.

The poor old nut looked at me in such a deuced cat-like way, standing with his mouth open, waiting to be congratulated, that I simply hadnt the heart to tell him I already knew, and had been instructed with the express purpose of laying him a stymie.

So I congratulated him.

Thanks awfully, old girl, he said. Its a bit premature, but I fancy its going to be alright. Come along and Ill tell you all about it.

We started off toward the manse, Lumpy happily telling the story of how he had fallen for this bird called Anya Jenkins, their courtship, and his meeting her father.

Well, you see, he said, Anyas father used to be in the Music Hall profession. It was before our time, but I remember hearing about him Dan Jenkins. He used be quite well-known in London, and even did a tour of America for a while. Well, hes a fine old boy, but as obstinate as a mule, and he didnt like the idea of Anya marrying me because I wasnt a performer. Wouldnt hear of it. Well, you remember at Oxford I could always sing a song pretty well; So Anya got hold of a producer and made him promise to come and hear me rehearse and get me bookings if he liked my work. She stands high with him. She coached me for weeks, the darling. And now, hes booked me in the small time at thirty-five pounds a week.

I steadied myself against the nearest wall. Through sort of a mist I seemed to have a vision of Aunt Sheila hearing that the head of the Harrison-Phippses was about to appear on the vaudeville stage. Aunt Sheilas worship of the family name amounts to an obsession. The Harrison-Phippses were an old-established clan when William the Conqueror was a small boy going round with bare legs and a catapult. For centuries they have called kings by their first names and helped dukes with their weekly rent; and theres practically nothing a Harrison-Phipps can do that doesnt blot his escutcheon. So what Aunt Sheila would say beyond that it was all my faultwhen she learned the horrid news, it was beyond me to imagine.

Go on into the house, Lumpy, I said, My man Giles makes this thing I call a life-saver. Something tells me I need one now. And excuse me for one minute, Lumpy. I just remembered I needed Oakshott to send a cable.

Hurry back, old girl. Id forgotten to tell you that Id brought Anya and her old man with me. Theyre just getting settled in now. I cant wait for you to meet them.

It was clear to me now that Aunt Sheila had picked the wrong bird for this job of disentangling Lumpy from the clutches of the vaudeville profession. How could I possibly steer his eye to Miss Maclay if he had brought with him the girl he was supposed to have left behind? What I needed were reinforcements. For a moment I thought of cabling Aunt Sheila, but reason told me that this would be overdoing. I wanted assistance, but not so badly as that. I hit what seemed to be a happy mean. I had Oakshott cable to Lumpys mother and made it urgent.

I was so concerned with the situation of Lumps and the show-girl, I had all but forgotten about the business with my Uncle Willoughbys manuscript. When I had pinched it the day before, I didnt think that the old fellow would have had time to suspect that anything had gone wrong until Saturday morning, when he would be expecting, of course, to get the acknowledgement of the manuscript from the publishers. But he came out of the library as I was passing on my way back to find Lumpy and asked me to step in. He looked considerably rattled.

Willow, he said he always spoke in a precise sort of pompous kind of way an exceedingly disturbing thing has happened. As you know, I dispatched the manuscript of my book to Messrs. Wolfram and Hart, the publishers, yesterday afternoon. It should have reached them by first post this morning. Why I should have been uneasy I cannot say, but my mind was not altogether at rest respecting the safety of the parcel. I therefore telephoned to Messrs. Wolfram and Hart a few moments back to make inquiries. To my consternation they informed me that they were not yet in receipt of my manuscript.

Very rum!

I recollect distinctly placing it myself on the hall table in good time to be taken to the village. But here is the sinister thing. I have spoken to Oakshott, who took the rest of the letters to the post office, and he cannot recall seeing it there. He is, indeed, unswerving in his assertions that when he went into the hall to collect the letters there was no parcel among them.

Sounds funny!

Willow, shall I tell you what I suspect?

Whats that? I tried not to swallow too plainly.

The suspicion will no doubt sound to you incredible, but it alone seems to fit the facts as we know them. I incline to the belief that the parcel has been stolen.

Oh, I say! Surely not!

Wait! Hear me out. Though I have said nothing to you before, or to anyone else, concerning the matter, the fact remains that during the past few weeks a number of objectssome valuable, others nothave disappeared in this house. The conclusion to which one is irresistibly impelled is that we have a kleptomaniac in our midst. It is a peculiarity of kleptomania, as you are no doubt aware, that the subject is unable to differentiate between the intrinsic value of objects. He will purloin an old coat as readily as a diamond ring, or a tobacco pipe costing a few shillings with the same eagerness as a purse of gold. The fact that this manuscript of mine could be of no possible value to any outside person convinces me that

But, Uncle, one moment; I know all about those things that were stolen. It was Dawn, my maid, who pinched them. I caught her snaffling my silk stockings! Right in the act, by Jove!

He was tremendously impressed.

You amaze me, Willow! Send for the girl at once and question her!

But she isnt here. You see, directly I found that she was a sock-sneaker I gave her the boot. Thats why I went to London to get a new maid. But they were out of maids, so I took on this fellow, Giles, you see.

Then if the maid Dawn is no longer in the house it could not be she who purloined my manuscript. The whole thing is inexplicable.

After which we brooded for a bit. Uncle Willoughby pottered about the room while I sat feeling rather like a chappie Id once read about in a book, who murdered another cove and hid the body under the dining room table, and then had to be the life and soul of the party, with it there all the time. My guilty secret oppressed me to such an extent that after a while I couldnt stick it any longer. I excused myself from the library and set off again to find Lumpy.

Once in the hall, a tap on my shoulder caused me to break the record for the standing high-jump.

It wasnt me! I said, spinning around.

It wasnt you, what?

Miss Maclay, I say, you gave me quite a start.

Im sorry.

No, no, its quite alright. A bird needs one good fright a day; I should think it rather bracing, rather like a cold bath, you know. Manys the day Ive had my maid draw up a chilly tub so I might have a decently pipping wash.

Are you speaking in code?

No?

Tara seemed to glance about the area before turning her marvelous gaze back to me.

What are you doing? she asked.

Doing?

Out here in the hall.

She seemed to be getting at something, only I hadnt the flightiest clue what that something might be.

Nothing. I said, then suddenly remembering, Well, I am on my way to find old Lumps. Topping fellow, dont you know. In fact, hes the man youre meant to meet. You really ought to join me. Although, he does have that Anya person with him, and her father to boot. It certainly seems a great load of stone to lay on two birds at once, wouldnt you say? My, thats rather like that old saying, what? Now how does it go? Something, something, thingummy, something, something? Rot, the old beans frightfully vexed these days. I shall take a lengthy vacation once all this is over.

There was another of those frightfully enormous pauses.

Has anyone ever told you that you speak very strangely?

Oh yes, loads in fact. My Aunt Sheila often says she hasnt a clue what Im saying.

I smiled gamely as this was a point I was particularly proud of. She seemed to consider this a moment before continuing on.

Youre adorable.

I couldnt help but stand a bit taller at such an open declaration.

Am I?

Yes. Ridiculous, and adorable.

She looped her arm through my own and Id like to have fainted from joy right there.

Take me, she said.

Im sorry? I said, trying my best not to stutter.

To this Lumpy character, or man, or whatever he is.

Oh. The light-bulb popped on. Im sure hes about somewhere. I was about to have a look round.

Mind if I join you? Since Im supposed to meet him anyway.

No, no not all. Topping idea!

I started slowly down the hall, not entirely sure of my footing. She glided along next to me, graceful as a swan on the Thames.

Willow, she said. May I call you that?

Yes! Yes, of course!

And you may call me Tara.

Oh, well, thanks very much. I smiled.

May I ask you something?

Certainly.

Why am I meant to meet him?

Who?

Lumpy.

I stopped my forward advancement and looked at her peculiarly.

I thought it had been explained to you. I said. Before she could answer I went on. Oh, of course, they wouldnt have called him Lumpy would they? Silly me. You know him as Alexander Harrison-Phipps. And yes, thats THE Harrison-Phippses. Hes really an upright chappie, as Ive said. Im sure youll get on famously with him.

They?

Sorry?

Who is the they that wouldnt have called him Lumpy?

You know, your father and my Aunt Sheila.

I was beginning to worry that the girl might be a trifle slow.

My fatherbut, Willow

Aunt Sheila told me shed met you at Barton Park, and was sending you here to meet ol Lumps.

Her eyes lit up with the light of recognition. Youre referring to Mrs. Rosenby-Gregson?

Yes, unfortunately.

But, Willow, when she suggested I visit Easeby she only gave me you as the person I was to meet. She didnt mention anyone else. Id certainly remember a name like Lumpy, or Alexander Harrison-Phipps. Who wouldnt?

And your father hasnt given you any instruction on agreements?

She regarded me quite seriously.

My father and I havent spoken in a very long time.

So, am I right in guessing, that he hasnt send you to England to find a husband?

She laughed. A beautiful full-throated laugh that, had there been any songbirds present, the blighters would have given their resignation, packed up their vocal bits, and popped off with the knowledge they had been thoroughly out-sung.

No, I havent come to England looking to marry. Imwell, you might say that Im sort of divorced.

Oh. I see. No dowry then; that would make it more difficult.

It wasnt that sort of marriage, Willow. It was what youd call a Boston Marriage.

She gazed at me quite keenly, as if shed meant to go on, but had suddenly forgotten how to form vowels.

Well, that certainly makes sense. I said.

It does? She asked, seeming to find it odd that I could see the logic in it.

Of course. You being from Boston, and everything, that would make it a Boston marriage. Just as, say, if you were to marry here, it might be called a Shropshire marriage, what?

No, thats not

Lumpy came suddenly bounding down the hall like a wild hare escaping the hunt.

Willow, chum! There you are! He said. Ive been looking the world for you! Oh, hello.

He nodded in Taras direction.

Lumps, this is Miss Tara Maclay of Boston. Tara, this is Alexander Harrison-Phipps.

A pleasure, he said.

Likewise.

Hurry, Willow. Ive got them in the sitting room. I think youll find them absolutely charming. You shall come as well, Miss Maclay.

He was so excited he practically hummed with electric energy, much like one of the machines you find at the penny arcade, where you feed it a two-pence, grab the lever, and get a hearty zap for no good reason.

The first sight that firmly grabbed hold of my eyeballs upon entering the room was the extraordinarily stout chappie taking up one of the couches, chewing a cigar and peering solemnly at us over his zareba of chins. I wanted so badly to inform him that cigars were meant to be enjoyed only in the smoking room, but I feared he might sit on me in protest. I looked to Miss Maclay and her expression proved that I was not the only one surprised at the portliness of the fellow.

Willow, this is Anya Jenkins, my fiance, Lumpy proudly introduced, thrusting the young girl into my line of sight. I was grateful for the change of scenery.

She was a small girl, smaller than me, I might add, sort of a brunette with blonde aspirations, her doe eyes gazed up at me and her lips formed into an anticipatory smile even as her eyebrows rose to meet her hairline. It was clear that Lumpy had informed her she was to meet with my approval.

A pleasure, Im sure, I said.

Its so wonderful to finally meet you. She said, Nick has told me so much about you, I feel as though we were sisters. If she was anything, energetic would be the word.

Nick? Oh, yes, Lumpy, of course.

At that moment, Lumps drew my attention back to the odd mass in the suit.

And this is her father, the famous Mr. Dan Jenkins.

The Dan Jenkins? Tara spoke up. The song and dance man? She instantly paled. Im sorry, Ive spoken out of turn.

No bother, no bother, I said, rather hastily. I introduced her to the group.

Youve heard of me, young lady, Mr. Jenkins said, his cigar rolling about his mouth as he spoke.

Ive seen you, she said. You came through Boston when I was eight years old. My mother brought my brother and I to the theatre.

Well, thats rather novel, wouldnt you say? I said. Makes the bally world seem a bit smaller, what?

Oh, Miss Rosenby, youre so clever, Anya said in a sort of chirrupy fashion, and followed her statement with a high-pitched squeal of a laugh that would have deafened a poodle within a quarter mile.

Have you lot had your tea? I asked, smiling through gritted teeth.

Oh yes, said Lumpy. Oakshott delivered to us ages ago. Wed waited, old chum, but you seemed to had disappeared into thin air.

We all sat down and I rang for tea for Miss Maclay and myself. Mr. Jenkins set about telling stories of his travels in America, having seemingly found a captive audience in Miss Maclay. I wasnt all that certain Tara was particularly interested, but if she wasnt, she certainly was too kind to show it.

The formidable Miss Jenkins continued her efforts to arrive on my good side, and I tried, for Lumpys sake, to like the girl at least a little, but every time she pierced the air with that ridiculous laugh, the train of good intentions promptly derailed.

Oakshott arrived and announced that dinner would be served at seven. We retired to our rooms to prepare for the feast.

I was simply exhausted. The grey-matter was frightfully overloaded with schemes, American girls, rotund former dancers and squealing actresses. I decided I simply couldnt shoulder the burden alone any longer. I was going to have to share some of it, and Giles was the only fellow available. I related the business of young Lumpy and my Aunts designs on him, keeping the manuscript business, which I felt was far too rummy to risk letting him in on, to myself. Dont want too many hands in the kettle, what?

And thats how the matter stands, Giles, I said as I finished dressing behind a screen.

A rather curious situation, miss.

What are we going to do about it?

Time may provide a solution, miss.

On the other hand, it maynt, what?

Extremely true, miss.

Giles, Mr. Harrison-Phipps is going on the stage!

Indeed, miss?

Ah! The thing doesnt hit you! You dont get it properly! Heres the point. The family is most fearfully dead against his going on the stage. Theres going to be no end of trouble if he isnt headed off. And whats worse, My Aunt Sheila will blame me, you see.

I see, miss.

Well, cant you think of some way of stopping him?

Not, I confess, at the moment, miss.

Well, have a stab at it.

I will give the matter my best consideration, miss. Will there be anything further?

I hope not! Ive had all I can stand, already!

Very good, miss.

He popped off.

Well, if he was going to be bally unsympathetic as that there was nothing to be done. But if he was letting those purple stockings rankle him to that extent, the good old noblesse oblige of the Rosenbys couldnt lower much to the extent of pleading with the man. Absolutely not. So I gave it a miss.

*****

TBC....