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Benson. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +a {text-decoration:none; color:blue;} +a:visited {color:gray;} +ins.corr {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + +body {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%;} +p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em; text-indent:1.5em;} +p.noin {text-indent:0;} +h1,h2,h3 {text-align: center; clear: both;} +h2+p {text-indent:0;} +h3 {margin:0 auto 0 auto;} +.blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + +hr {width:65%; margin:2em auto 2em auto; clear:both; text-align:center;} +hr.full {width: 100%;} +hr.minor {width: 45%; margin:1em auto 1em auto; clear:both;} + +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + +ul.off {list-style-type:none;} +ul.hi li {margin-left: 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + +.pagenum {/* visibility: hidden; */ position: absolute; left: 95%; font-style: normal; font-size: smaller; text-align: right; text-indent: 0;} +.ralign {position:absolute; right:20%; text-align:right;} +.mt2 {margin-top:2em;} + +.bbox {border: solid 1px; padding:1em; margin:2em 10% 2em 10%;} + +.b {font-weight:bold;} +.c {text-align: center;} +.i {font-style:italic;} +.sc {font-variant: small-caps;} +.sf75 {font-size:75%;} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} +.poem br {display: none;} +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} +.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss Mapp, by Edward Frederic Benson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Miss Mapp + +Author: Edward Frederic Benson + +Release Date: June 28, 2008 [EBook #25919] +[Last updated: September 26, 2012] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAPP *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, LN Yaddanapudi and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></p> +<h1 class='i'>Miss Mapp</h1> + +<h2>Table of Contents</h2> +<ul class='off'> +<li><a href="#PREFACE"><b>PREFACE</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_4'>4</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_5'>5</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_31'>31</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_65'>65</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_93'>93</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_113'>113</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_139'>139</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_162'>162</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_187'>187</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_208'>208</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_229'>229</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_250'>250</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_275'>275</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#EPILOGUE"><b>EPILOGUE</b></a> <span class='ralign'><a href='#Page_285'>285</a></span></li> +</ul> + +<hr /><p class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></p> +<h1 class='i'>MISS MAPP<br /> <span class="sf75">By E. F. Benson,<br /> +Author of “Queen Lucia.” “Dodo Wonders.” &c.</span></h1> + +<p class='b c i mt2 noin'>McCLELLAND & STEWART, LTD.,<br /> TORONTO</p> + +<hr /><p class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></p> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">I lingered</span> at the window of the garden-room from which Miss Mapp so +often and so ominously looked forth. To the left was the front of her +house, straight ahead the steep cobbled way, with a glimpse of the High +Street at the end, to the right the crooked chimney and the church.</p> + +<p>The street was populous with passengers, but search as I might, I could +see none who ever so remotely resembled the objects of her vigilance.</p> + +<p><span class='ralign sc'>E. F. Benson.</span><br /> +Lamb House, Rye.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> +<p class='c i mt2 noin'>Printed in Great Britain.</p> + +<hr /><p class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p>Miss Elizabeth Mapp might have been forty, and she had taken advantage +of this opportunity by being just a year or two older. Her face was of +high vivid colour and was corrugated by chronic rage and curiosity; but +these vivifying emotions had preserved to her an astonishing activity of +mind and body, which fully accounted for the comparative adolescence +with which she would have been credited anywhere except in the charming +little town which she had inhabited so long. Anger and the gravest +suspicions about everybody had kept her young and on the boil.</p> + +<p>She sat, on this hot July morning, like a large bird of prey at the very +convenient window of her garden-room, the ample bow of which formed a +strategical point of high value. This garden-room, solid and spacious, +was built at right angles to the front of her house, and looked straight +down the very interesting street which debouched at its lower end into +the High Street of Tilling. Exactly opposite her front door the road +turned sharply, so that as she looked out from this projecting window, +her own house was at right angles on her left, the street in question +plunged steeply downwards in front of her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +and to her right she commanded an uninterrupted view of its further +course which terminated in the disused graveyard surrounding the big +Norman church. Anything of interest about the church, however, could be +gleaned from a guide-book, and Miss Mapp did not occupy herself much +with such coldly venerable topics. Far more to her mind was the fact +that between the church and her strategic window was the cottage in +which her gardener lived, and she could thus see, when not otherwise +engaged, whether he went home before twelve, or failed to get back to +her garden again by one, for he had to cross the street in front of her +very eyes. Similarly she could observe whether any of his abandoned +family ever came out from her garden door weighted with suspicious +baskets, which might contain smuggled vegetables. Only yesterday morning +she had hurried forth with a dangerous smile to intercept a laden +urchin, with inquiries as to what was in “that nice basket.” +On that occasion that nice basket had proved to contain a strawberry net +which was being sent for repair to the gardener’s wife; so there +was nothing more to be done except verify its return. This she did from +a side window of the garden-room which commanded the strawberry beds; +she could sit quite close to that, for it was screened by the +large-leaved branches of a fig-tree and she could spy unseen.</p> + +<p>Otherwise this road to the right leading up to the church was of no +great importance (except on Sunday morning, when she could get a +practically complete list of those who attended Divine Service), for no +one of real interest lived in the humble dwellings which lined it. To +the left was the front of her own house at right angles to the strategic +window, and with regard to that a good many useful observations might +be, and were, made.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> She could, from behind a curtain negligently +half-drawn across the side of the window nearest the house, have an eye +on her housemaid at work, and notice if she leaned out of a window, or +made remarks to a friend passing in the street, or waved salutations +with a duster. Swift upon such discoveries, she would execute a flank +march across the few steps of garden and steal into the house, +noiselessly ascend the stairs, and catch the offender red-handed at this +public dalliance. But all such domestic espionage to right and left was +flavourless and insipid compared to the tremendous discoveries which +daily and hourly awaited the trained observer of the street that lay +directly in front of her window.</p> + +<p>There was little that concerned the social movements of Tilling that +could not be proved, or at least reasonably conjectured, from Miss +Mapp’s eyrie. Just below her house on the left stood Major +Flint’s residence, of Georgian red brick like her own, and +opposite was that of Captain Puffin. They were both bachelors, though +Major Flint was generally supposed to have been the hero of some +amazingly amorous adventures in early life, and always turned the +subject with great abruptness when anything connected with duelling was +mentioned. It was not, therefore, unreasonable to infer that he had had +experiences of a bloody sort, and colour was added to this romantic +conjecture by the fact that in damp, rheumatic weather his left arm was +very stiff, and he had been known to say that his wound troubled him. +What wound that was no one exactly knew (it might have been anything +from a vaccination mark to a sabre-cut), for having said that his wound +troubled him, he would invariably add: “Pshaw! that’s enough +about an old campaigner”; and though he might subsequently talk of +nothing else except the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +campaigner, he drew a veil over his old campaigns. That he had seen +service in India was, indeed, probable by his referring to lunch as +tiffin, and calling to his parlour-maid with the ejaculation of +“Qui-hi.” As her name was Sarah, this was clearly a +reminiscence of days in bungalows. When not in a rage, his manner to his +own sex was bluff and hearty; but whether in a rage or not, his manner +to the fairies, or lovely women, was gallant and pompous in the extreme. +He certainly had a lock of hair in a small gold specimen case on his +watch-chain, and had been seen to kiss it when, rather carelessly, he +thought that he was unobserved.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp’s eye, as she took her seat in her window on this sunny +July morning, lingered for a moment on the Major’s house, before +she proceeded to give a disgusted glance at the pictures on the back +page of her morning illustrated paper, which chiefly represented young +women dancing in rings in the surf, or lying on the beach in attitudes +which Miss Mapp would have scorned to adjust herself to. Neither the +Major nor Captain Puffin were very early risers, but it was about time +that the first signals of animation might be expected. Indeed, at this +moment, she quite distinctly heard that muffled roar which to her +experienced ear was easily interpreted to be “Qui-hi!”</p> + +<p>“So the Major has just come down to breakfast,” she +mechanically inferred, “and it’s close on ten o’clock. +Let me see: Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday—Porridge morning.”</p> + +<p>Her penetrating glance shifted to the house exactly opposite to that in +which it was porridge morning, and even as she looked a hand was thrust +out of a small upper window and deposited a sponge on the sill. Then +from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +the inside the lower sash was thrust firmly down, so as to prevent the +sponge from blowing away and falling into the street. Captain Puffin, it +was therefore clear, was a little later than the Major that morning. But +he always shaved and brushed his teeth before his bath, so that there +was but a few minutes between them.</p> + +<p>General manœuvres in Tilling, the gradual burstings of fluttering +life from the chrysalis of the night, the emergence of the ladies of the +town with their wicker-baskets in their hands for housekeeping +purchases, the exodus of men to catch the 11.20 a.m. steam-tram out to +the golf links, and other first steps in the duties and diversions of +the day, did not get into full swing till half-past ten, and Miss Mapp +had ample time to skim the headlines of her paper and indulge in chaste +meditations about the occupants of these two houses, before she need +really make herself alert to miss nothing. Of the two, Major Flint, +without doubt, was the more attractive to the feminine sense; for years +Miss Mapp had tried to cajole him into marrying her, and had not nearly +finished yet. With his record of adventure, with the romantic reek of +India (and camphor) in the tiger-skin of the rugs that strewed his hall +and surged like a rising tide up the wall, with his haughty and gallant +manner, with his loud pshawings and sniffs at “nonsense and +balderdash,” his thumpings on the table to emphasize an argument, +with his wound and his prodigious swipes at golf, his intolerance of any +who believed in ghosts, microbes or vegetarianism, there was something +dashing and risky about him; you felt that you were in the presence of +some hot coal straight from the furnace of creation. Captain Puffin, on +the other hand, was of clay so different that he could hardly be +considered to be made of clay at all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +He was lame and short and meagre, with strings of peaceful beads and +Papuan aprons in his hall instead of wild tiger-skins, and had a jerky, +inattentive manner and a high pitched voice. Yet to Miss Mapp’s +mind there was something behind his unimpressiveness that had a +mysterious quality—all the more so, because nothing of it appeared +on the surface. Nobody could call Major Flint, with his bawlings and his +sniffings, the least mysterious. He laid all his loud cards on the +table, great hulking kings and aces. But Miss Mapp felt far from sure +that Captain Puffin did not hold a joker which would some time come to +light. The idea of being Mrs. Puffin was not so attractive as the other, +but she occasionally gave it her remote consideration.</p> + +<p>Yet there was mystery about them both, in spite of the fact that most of +their movements were so amply accounted for. As a rule, they played golf +together in the morning, reposed in the afternoon, as could easily be +verified by anyone standing on a still day in the road between their +houses and listening to the loud and rhythmical breathings that fanned +the tranquil air, certainly went out to tea-parties afterwards and +played bridge till dinner-time; or if no such entertainment was +proffered them, occupied arm-chairs at the country club, or laboriously +amassed a hundred at billiards. Though tea-parties were profuse, dining +out was very rare at Tilling; Patience or a jig-saw puzzle occupied the +hour or two that intervened between domestic supper and bed-time; but +again and again, Miss Mapp had seen lights burning in the sitting-room +of those two neighbours at an hour when such lights as were still in +evidence at Tilling were strictly confined to bedrooms, and should, +indeed, have been extinguished there. And only last week, being <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +plucked from slumber by some unaccountable indigestion (for which she +blamed a small green apple), she had seen at no less than twelve-thirty +in the morning the lights in Captain Puffin’s sitting-room still +shining through the blind. This had excited her so much that at risk of +toppling into the street, she had craned her neck from her window, and +observed a similar illumination in the house of Major Flint. They were +not together then, for in that case any prudent householder (and God +knew that they both of them scraped and saved enough, or, if He +didn’t know, Miss Mapp did) would have quenched his own lights, if +he were talking to his friend in his friend’s house. The next +night, the pangs of indigestion having completely vanished, she set her +alarum clock at the same timeless hour, and had observed exactly the +same phenomenon. Such late hours, of course, amply accounted for these +late breakfasts; but why, so Miss Mapp pithily asked herself, why these +late hours? Of course they both kept summer-time, whereas most of +Tilling utterly refused (except when going by train) to alter their +watches because Mr. Lloyd George told them to; but even allowing for +that … then she perceived that summer-time made it later than +ever for its adherents, so that was no excuse.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp had a mind that was incapable of believing the improbable, and +the current explanation of these late hours was very improbable, indeed. +Major Flint often told the world in general that he was revising his +diaries, and that the only uninterrupted time which he could find in +this pleasant whirl of life at Tilling was when he was alone in the +evening. Captain Puffin, on his part, confessed to a student’s +curiosity about the ancient history of Tilling, with regard to which he +was preparing a monograph. He could talk, when permitted, by the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +hour about the reclamation from the sea of the marsh land south of the +town, and about the old Roman road which was built on a raised causeway, +of which traces remained; but it argued, so thought Miss Mapp, an +unprecedented egoism on the part of Major Flint, and an equally +unprecedented love of antiquities on the part of Captain Puffin, that +they should prosecute their studies (with gas at the present price) till +such hours. No; Miss Mapp knew better than that, but she had not made up +her mind exactly what it was that she knew. She mentally rejected the +idea that egoism (even in these days of diaries and autobiographies) and +antiquities accounted for so much study, with the same healthy +intolerance with which a vigorous stomach rejects unwholesome food, and +did not allow herself to be insidiously poisoned by its retention. But +as she took up her light aluminium opera-glasses to make sure whether it +was Isabel Poppit or not who was now stepping with that high, prancing +tread into the stationer’s in the High Street, she exclaimed to +herself, for the three hundred and sixty-fifth time after breakfast: +“It’s very baffling”; for it was precisely a year +to-day since she had first seen those mysterious midnight squares of +illuminated blind. “Baffling,” in fact, was a word that +constantly made short appearances in Miss Mapp’s vocabulary, +though its retention for a whole year over one subject was +unprecedented. But never yet had “baffled” sullied her wells +of pure undefiled English.</p> + +<p>Movement had begun; Mrs. Plaistow, carrying her wicker basket, came +round the corner by the church, in the direction of Miss Mapp’s +window, and as there was a temporary coolness between them (following +violent heat) with regard to some worsted of brilliant rose-madder hue, +which a forgetful draper had sold to Mrs. Plaistow, having <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +definitely promised it to Miss Mapp … but Miss Mapp’s +large-mindedness scorned to recall the sordid details of this paltry +appropriation. The heat had quite subsided, and Miss Mapp was, for her +part, quite prepared to let the coolness regain the normal temperature +of cordiality the moment that Mrs. Plaistow returned that worsted. +Outwardly and publicly friendly relationships had been resumed, and as +the coolness had lasted six weeks or so, it was probable that the +worsted had already been incorporated into the ornamental border of Mrs. +Plaistow’s jumper or winter scarf, and a proper expression of +regret would have to do instead. So the nearer Mrs. Plaistow approached, +the more invisible she became to Miss Mapp’s eye, and when she was +within saluting distance had vanished altogether. Simultaneously Miss +Poppit came out of the stationer’s in the High Street.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Plaistow turned the corner below Miss Mapp’s window, and went +bobbing along down the steep hill. She walked with the motion of those +mechanical dolls sold in the street, which have three legs set as spokes +to a circle, so that their feet emerge from their dress with Dutch and +rigid regularity, and her figure had a certain squat rotundity that +suited her gait. She distinctly looked into Captain Puffin’s +dining-room window as she passed, and with the misplaced juvenility so +characteristic of her waggled her plump little hand at it. At the corner +beyond Major Flint’s house she hesitated a moment, and turned off +down the entry into the side street where Mr. Wyse lived. The dentist +lived there, too, and as Mr. Wyse was away on the continent of Europe, +Mrs. Plaistow was almost certain to be visiting the other. Rapidly Miss +Mapp remembered that at Mrs. Bartlett’s bridge party yesterday +Mrs. Plaistow had selected soft chocolates for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +consumption instead of those stuffed with nougat or almonds. That +furnished additional evidence for the dentist, for generally you could +not get a nougat chocolate at all if Godiva Plaistow had been in the +room for more than a minute or two… As she crossed the narrow +cobbled roadway, with the grass growing luxuriantly between the rounded +pebbles, she stumbled and recovered herself with a swift little forward +run, and the circular feet twinkled with the rapidity of those of a +thrush scudding over the lawn.</p> + +<p>By this time Isabel Poppit had advanced as far as the fish shop three +doors below the turning down which Mrs. Plaistow had vanished. Her +prancing progress paused there for a moment, and she waited with one +knee highly elevated, like a statue of a curveting horse, before she +finally decided to pass on. But she passed no further than the fruit +shop next door, and took the three steps that elevated it from the +street in a single prance, with her Roman nose high in the air. +Presently she emerged, but with no obvious rotundity like that of a +melon projecting from her basket, so that Miss Mapp could see exactly +what she had purchased, and went back to the fish shop again. Surely she +would not put fish on the top of fruit, and even as Miss Mapp’s +lucid intelligence rejected this supposition, the true solution struck +her. “Ice,” she said to herself, and, sure enough, +projecting from the top of Miss Poppit’s basket when she came out +was an angular peak, wrapped up in paper already wet.</p> + +<p>Miss Poppit came up the street and Miss Mapp put up her illustrated +paper again, with the revolting picture of the Brighton sea-nymphs +turned towards the window. Peeping out behind it, she observed that Miss +Poppit’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +basket was apparently oozing with bright venous blood, and felt certain +that she had bought red currants. That, coupled with the ice, made +conjecture complete. She had bought red currants slightly damaged (or +they would not have oozed so speedily), in order to make that iced +red-currant fool of which she had so freely partaken at Miss +Mapp’s last bridge party. That was a very scurvy trick, for iced +red-currant fool was an invention of Miss Mapp’s, who, when it was +praised, said that she inherited the recipe from her grandmother. But +Miss Poppit had evidently entered the lists against Grandmamma Mapp, and +she had as evidently guessed that quite inferior fruit—fruit that +was distinctly “off,” was undetectable when severely iced. +Miss Mapp could only hope that the fruit in the basket now bobbing past +her window was so much “off” that it had begun to ferment. +Fermented red-currant fool was nasty to the taste, and, if persevered +in, disastrous in its effects. General unpopularity might be needed to +teach Miss Poppit not to trespass on Grandmamma Mapp’s preserves.</p> + +<p>Isabel Poppit lived with a flashy and condescending mother just round +the corner beyond the gardener’s cottage, and opposite the west +end of the church. They were comparatively new inhabitants of Tilling, +having settled here only two or three years ago, and Tilling had not yet +quite ceased to regard them as rather suspicious characters. Suspicion +smouldered, though it blazed no longer. They were certainly rich, and +Miss Mapp suspected them of being profiteers. They kept a butler, of +whom they were both in considerable awe, who used almost to shrug his +shoulders when Mrs. Poppit gave him an order: they kept a motor-car to +which Mrs. Poppit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +was apt to allude more frequently than would have been natural if she +had always been accustomed to one, and they went to Switzerland for a +month every winter and to Scotland “for the +shooting-season,” as Mrs. Poppit terribly remarked, every summer. +This all looked very black, and though Isabel conformed to the manners +of Tilling in doing household shopping every morning with her wicker +basket, and buying damaged fruit for fool, and in dressing in the +original home-made manner indicated by good breeding and narrow incomes, +Miss Mapp was sadly afraid that these habits were not the outcome of +chaste and instinctive simplicity, but of the ambition to be received by +the old families of Tilling as one of them. But what did a true +Tillingite want with a butler and a motor-car? And if these were not +sufficient to cast grave doubts on the sincerity of the inhabitants of +“Ye Smalle House,” there was still very vivid in Miss +Mapp’s mind that dreadful moment, undimmed by the years that had +passed over it, when Mrs. Poppit broke the silence at an altogether too +sumptuous lunch by asking Mrs. Plaistow if she did not find the +super-tax a grievous burden on “our little incomes.” +… Miss Mapp had drawn in her breath sharply, as if in pain, and +after a few gasps turned the conversation… Worst of all, perhaps, +because more recent, was the fact that Mrs. Poppit had just received the +dignity of the M.B.E., or Member of the Order of the British Empire, and +put it on her cards too, as if to keep the scandal alive. Her services +in connection with the Tilling hospital had been entirely confined to +putting her motor-car at its disposal when she did not want it herself, +and not a single member of the Tilling Working Club, which had knitted +its fingers to the bone and made enough seven-tailed bandages to reach +to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +moon, had been offered a similar decoration. If anyone had she would +have known what to do: a stinging letter to the Prime Minister saying +that she worked not with hope of distinction, but from pure patriotism, +would have certainly been Miss Mapp’s rejoinder. She actually +drafted the letter, when Mrs. Poppit’s name appeared, and +diligently waded through column after column of subsequent lists, to +make sure that she, the originator of the Tilling Working Club, had not +been the victim of a similar insult.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Poppit was a climber: that was what she was, and Miss Mapp was +obliged to confess that very nimble she had been. The butler and the +motor-car (so frequently at the disposal of Mrs. Poppit’s friends) +and the incessant lunches and teas had done their work; she had fed +rather than starved Tilling into submission, and Miss Mapp felt that she +alone upheld the dignity of the old families. She was positively the +only old family (and a solitary spinster at that) who had not +surrendered to the Poppits. Naturally she did not carry her staunchness +to the extent, so to speak, of a hunger-strike, for that would be +singular conduct, only worthy of suffragettes, and she partook of the +Poppits’ hospitality to the fullest extent possible, but (here her +principles came in) she never returned the hospitality of the Member of +the British Empire, though she occasionally asked Isabel to her house, +and abused her soundly on all possible occasions…</p> + +<p>This spiteful retrospect passed swiftly and smoothly through Miss +Mapp’s mind, and did not in the least take off from the acuteness +with which she observed the tide in the affairs of Tilling which, after +the ebb of the night, was now flowing again, nor did it, a few minutes +after Isabel’s disappearance round the corner, prevent her from +hearing the faint tinkle of the telephone in her own house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +At that she started to her feet, but paused again at the door. She had +shrewd suspicions about her servants with regard to the telephone: she +was convinced (though at present she had not been able to get any +evidence on the point) that both her cook and her parlourmaid used it +for their own base purposes at her expense, and that their friends +habitually employed it for conversation with them. And perhaps—who +knows?—her housemaid was the worst of the lot, for she affected an +almost incredible stupidity with regard to the instrument, and pretended +not to be able either to speak through it or to understand its +cacklings. All that might very well be assumed in order to divert +suspicion, so Miss Mapp paused by the door to let any of these +delinquents get deep in conversation with her friend: a soft and +stealthy advance towards the room called the morning-room (a small +apartment opening out of the hall, and used chiefly for the bestowal of +hats and cloaks and umbrellas) would then enable her to catch one of +them red-mouthed, or at any rate to overhear fragments of conversation +which would supply equally direct evidence.</p> + +<p>She had got no further than the garden-door into her house when Withers, +her parlourmaid, came out. Miss Mapp thereupon began to smile and hum a +tune. Then the smile widened and the tune stopped.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Withers?” she said. “Were you looking for +me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Miss,” said Withers. “Miss Poppit has just rung +you up——”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp looked much surprised.</p> + +<p>“And to think that the telephone should have rung without my +hearing it,” she said. “I must be growing deaf, Withers, in +my old age. What does Miss Poppit want?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +“She hopes you will be able to go to tea this afternoon and play +bridge. She expects that a few friends may look in at a quarter to +four.”</p> + +<p>A flood of lurid light poured into Miss Mapp’s mind. To expect +that a few friends may look in was the orthodox way of announcing a +regular party to which she had not been asked, and Miss Mapp knew as if +by a special revelation that if she went, she would find that she made +the eighth to complete two tables of bridge. When the butler opened the +door, he would undoubtedly have in his hand a half sheet of paper on +which were written the names of the expected friends, and if the +caller’s name was not on that list, he would tell her with brazen +impudence that neither Mrs. Poppit nor Miss Poppit were at home, while, +before the baffled visitor had turned her back, he would admit another +caller who duly appeared on his reference paper… So then the +Poppits were giving a bridge-party to which she had only been bidden at +the last moment, clearly to take the place of some expected friend who +had developed influenza, lost an aunt or been obliged to go to London: +here, too, was the explanation of why (as she had overheard yesterday) +Major Flint and Captain Puffin were only intending to play one round of +golf to-day, and to come back by the 2.20 train. And why seek any +further for the explanation of the lump of ice and the red currants +(probably damaged) which she had observed Isabel purchase? And anyone +could see (at least Miss Mapp could) why she had gone to the +stationer’s in the High Street just before. Packs of cards.</p> + +<p>Who the expected friend was who had disappointed Mrs. Poppit could be +thought out later: at present, as Miss Mapp smiled at Withers and hummed +her tune again, she had to settle whether she was going to be +delighted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +to accept, or obliged to decline. The argument in favour of being +obliged to decline was obvious: Mrs. Poppit deserved to be “served +out” for not including her among the original guests, and if she +declined it was quite probable that at this late hour her hostess might +not be able to get anyone else, and so one of her tables would be +completely spoiled. In favour of accepting was the fact that she would +get a rubber of bridge and a good tea, and would be able to say +something disagreeable about the red-currant fool, which would serve +Miss Poppit out for attempting to crib her ancestral dishes…</p> + +<p>A bright, a joyous, a diabolical idea struck her, and she went herself +to the telephone, and genteelly wiped the place where Withers had +probably breathed on it.</p> + +<p>“So kind of you, Isabel,” she said, “but I am very +busy to-day, and you didn’t give me much notice, did you? So +I’ll try to look in if I can, shall I? I might be able to squeeze +it in.”</p> + +<p>There was a pause, and Miss Mapp knew that she had put Isabel in a hole. +If she successfully tried to get somebody else, Miss Mapp might find she +could squeeze it in, and there would be nine. If she failed to get +someone else, and Miss Mapp couldn’t squeeze it in, then there +would be seven… Isabel wouldn’t have a tranquil moment all +day.</p> + +<p>“Ah, do squeeze it in,” she said in those horrid wheedling +tones which for some reason Major Flint found so attractive. That was +one of the weak points about him, and there were many, many others. But +that was among those which Miss Mapp found it difficult to condone.</p> + +<p>“If I possibly can,” said Miss Mapp. “But at this late +hour—Good-bye, dear, or only <i>au reservoir</i>, we hope.”</p> + +<p>She heard Isabel’s polite laugh at this nearly new and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +delicious Malaprop before she rang off. Isabel collected malaprops and +wrote them out in a note book. If you reversed the note-book and began +at the other end, you would find the collection of Spoonerisms, which +were very amusing, too.</p> + +<p>Tea, followed by a bridge-party, was, in summer, the chief manifestation +of the spirit of hospitality in Tilling. Mrs. Poppit, it is true, had +attempted to do something in the way of dinner-parties, but though she +was at liberty to give as many dinner-parties as she pleased, nobody +else had followed her ostentatious example. Dinner-parties entailed a +higher scale of living; Miss Mapp, for one, had accurately counted the +cost of having three hungry people to dinner, and found that one such +dinner-party was not nearly compensated for, in the way of expense, by +being invited to three subsequent dinner-parties by your guests. +Voluptuous teas were the rule, after which you really wanted no more +than little bits of things, a cup of soup, a slice of cold tart, or a +dished-up piece of fish and some toasted cheese. Then, after the +excitement of bridge (and bridge was very exciting in Tilling), a +jig-saw puzzle or Patience cooled your brain and composed your nerves. +In winter, however, with its scarcity of daylight, Tilling commonly gave +evening bridge-parties, and asked the requisite number of friends to +drop in after dinner, though everybody knew that everybody else had only +partaken of bits of things. Probably the ruinous price of coal had +something to do with these evening bridge-parties, for the fire that +warmed your room when you were alone would warm all your guests as well, +and then, when your hospitality was returned, you could let your +sitting-room fire go out. But though Miss Mapp was already planning +something in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +connection with winter bridge, winter was a long way off yet…</p> + +<p>Before Miss Mapp got back to her window in the garden-room Mrs. +Poppit’s great offensive motor-car, which she always alluded to as +“the Royce,” had come round the corner and, stopping +opposite Major Flint’s house, was entirely extinguishing all +survey of the street beyond. It was clear enough then that she had sent +the Royce to take the two out to the golf-links, so that they should +have time to play their round and catch the 2.20 back to Tilling again, +so as to be in good time for the bridge-party. Even as she looked, Major +Flint came out of his house on one side of the Royce and Captain Puffin +on the other. The Royce obstructed their view of each other, and +simultaneously each of them shouted across to the house of the other. +Captain Puffin emitted a loud “Coo-ee, Major,” (an +Australian ejaculation, learned on his voyages), while Major Flint +bellowed “Qui-hi, Captain,” which, all the world knew, was +of Oriental origin. The noise each of them made prevented him from +hearing the other, and presently one in a fuming hurry to start ran +round in front of the car at the precise moment that the other ran round +behind it, and they both banged loudly on each other’s knockers. +These knocks were not so precisely simultaneous as the shouts had been, +and this led to mutual discovery, hailed with peals of falsetto laughter +on the part of Captain Puffin and the more manly guffaws of the +Major… After that the Royce lumbered down the grass-grown cobbles +of the street, and after a great deal of reversing managed to turn the +corner.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp set off with her basket to do her shopping. She carried in it +the weekly books, which she would leave, with payment but not without +argument, at the tradesmen’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +shops. There was an item for suet which she intended to resist to the +last breath in her body, though her butcher would probably surrender +long before that. There was an item for eggs at the dairy which she +might have to pay, though it was a monstrous overcharge. She had made up +her mind about the laundry, she intended to pay that bill with an icy +countenance and say “Good morning for ever,” or words to +that effect, unless the proprietor instantly produced the—the +article of clothing which had been lost in the wash (like King +John’s treasures), or refunded an ample sum for the replacing of +it. All these quarrelsome errands were meat and drink to Miss Mapp: +Tuesday morning, the day on which she paid and disputed her weekly +bills, was as enjoyable as Sunday mornings when, sitting close under the +pulpit, she noted the glaring inconsistencies and grammatical errors in +the discourse. After the bills were paid and business was done, there +was pleasure to follow, for there was a fitting-on at the +dress-maker’s, the fitting-on of a tea-gown, to be worn at +winter-evening bridge-parties, which, unless Miss Mapp was sadly +mistaken, would astound and agonize by its magnificence all who set eyes +on it. She had found the description of it, as worn by Mrs. Titus W. +Trout, in an American fashion paper; it was of what was described as +kingfisher blue, and had lumps and wedges of lace round the edge of the +skirt, and orange chiffon round the neck. As she set off with her basket +full of tradesmen’s books, she pictured to herself with watering +mouth the fury, the jealousy, the madness of envy which it would raise +in all properly-constituted breasts.</p> + +<p>In spite of her malignant curiosity and her cancerous suspicions about +all her friends, in spite, too, of her restless activities, Miss Mapp +was not, as might have been expected,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +a lady of lean and emaciated appearance. She was tall and portly, with +plump hands, a broad, benignant face and dimpled, well-nourished cheeks. +An acute observer might have detected a danger warning in the sidelong +glances of her rather bulgy eyes, and in a certain tightness at the +corners of her expansive mouth, which boded ill for any who came within +snapping distance, but to a more superficial view she was a rollicking, +good-natured figure of a woman. Her mode of address, too, bore out this +misleading impression: nothing, for instance, could have been more +genial just now than her telephone voice to Isabel Poppit, or her smile +to Withers, even while she so strongly suspected her of using the +telephone for her own base purposes, and as she passed along the High +Street, she showered little smiles and bows on acquaintances and +friends. She markedly drew back her lips in speaking, being in no way +ashamed of her long white teeth, and wore a practically perpetual smile +when there was the least chance of being under observation. Though at +sermon time on Sunday, as has been already remarked, she greedily noted +the weaknesses and errors of which those twenty minutes was so +rewardingly full, she sat all the time with down-dropped eyes and a +pretty sacred smile on her lips, and now, when she spied on the other +side of the street the figure of the vicar, she tripped slantingly +across the road to him, as if by the move of a knight at chess, looking +everywhere else, and only perceiving him with glad surprise at the very +last moment. He was a great frequenter of tea parties and except in Lent +an assiduous player of bridge, for a clergyman’s duties, so he +very properly held, were not confined to visiting the poor and exhorting +the sinner. He should be a man of the world, and enter into the +pleasures of his prosperous parishioners, as well as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +into the trials of the troubled. Being an accomplished card-player he +entered not only into their pleasures but their pockets, and there was +no lady of Tilling who was not pleased to have Mr. Bartlett for a +partner. His winnings, so he said, he gave annually to charitable +objects, though whether the charities he selected began at home was a +point on which Miss Mapp had quite made up her mind. “Not a penny +of that will the poor ever see,” was the gist of her reflections +when on disastrous days she paid him seven-and-ninepence. She always +called him “Padre,” and had never actually caught him +looking over his adversaries' hands.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Padre,” she said as soon as she perceived +him. “What a lovely day! The white butterflies were enjoying +themselves so in the sunshine in my garden. And the swallows!”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp, as every reader will have perceived, wanted to know whether +he was playing bridge this afternoon at the Poppits. Major Flint and +Captain Puffin certainly were, and it might be taken for granted that +Godiva Plaistow was. With the Poppits and herself that made six…</p> + +<p>Mr. Bartlett was humorously archaic in speech. He interlarded archaisms +with Highland expressions, and his face was knobby, like a chest of +drawers.</p> + +<p>“Ha, good morrow, fair dame,” he said. “And prithee, +art not thou even as ye white butterflies?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Bartlett,” said the fair dame with a provocative +glance. “Naughty! Comparing me to a delicious butterfly!”</p> + +<p>“Nay, prithee, why naughty?” said he. “Yea, indeed, +it’s a day to make ye little fowles rejoice! Ha! I perceive you +are on the errands of the guid wife Martha.” And he pointed to the +basket.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +“Yes; Tuesday morning,” said Miss Mapp. “I pay all my +household books on Tuesday. Poor but honest, dear Padre. What a rush +life is to-day! I hardly know which way to turn. Little duties in all +directions! And you; you’re always busy! Such a busy bee!”</p> + +<p>“Busy B? Busy Bartlett, quo’ she! Yes, I’m a busy B +to-day, Mistress Mapp. Sermon all morning: choir practice at three, a +baptism at six. No time for a walk to-day, let alone a bit turn at the +gowf.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp saw her opening, and made a busy bee line for it.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but you should get regular exercise, Padre,” said she. +“You take no care of yourself. After the choir practice now, and +before the baptism, you could have a brisk walk. To please me!”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I had meant to get a breath of air then,” said he. +“But ye guid Dame Poppit has insisted that I take a wee hand at +the cartes with them, the wifey and I. Prithee, shall we meet +there?”</p> + +<p>(“That makes seven without me,” thought Miss Mapp in +parenthesis.) Aloud she said:</p> + +<p>“If I can squeeze it in, Padre. I have promised dear Isabel to do +my best.”</p> + +<p>“Well, and a lassie can do no mair,” said he. “Au +reservoir then.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp was partly pleased, partly annoyed by the agility with which +the Padre brought out her own particular joke. It was she who had +brought it down to Tilling, and she felt she had an option on it at the +end of every interview, if she meant (as she had done on this occasion) +to bring it out. On the other hand it was gratifying to see how popular +it had become. She had heard it last month when on a visit to a friend +at that sweet and refined<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> village called Riseholme. It was rather +looked down on there, as not being sufficiently intellectual. But within +a week of Miss Mapp’s return, Tilling rang with it, and she let it +be understood that she was the original humorist.</p> + +<p>Godiva Plaistow came whizzing along the pavement, a short, stout, +breathless body who might, so thought Miss Mapp, have acted up to the +full and fell associations of her Christian name without exciting the +smallest curiosity on the part of the lewd. (Miss Mapp had much the same +sort of figure, but her height, so she was perfectly satisfied to +imagine, converted corpulence into majesty.) The swift alternation of +those Dutch-looking feet gave the impression that Mrs. Plaistow was +going at a prodigious speed, but they could stop revolving without any +warning, and then she stood still. Just when a collision with Miss Mapp +seemed imminent, she came to a dead halt.</p> + +<p>It was as well to be quite certain that she was going to the Poppits, +and Miss Mapp forgave and forgot about the worsted until she had found +out. She could never quite manage the indelicacy of saying +“Godiva,” whatever Mrs. Plaistow’s figure and age +might happen to be, but always addressed her as “Diva,” very +affectionately, whenever they were on speaking terms.</p> + +<p>“What a lovely morning, Diva darling,” she said; and +noticing that Mr. Bartlett was well out of earshot, “The white +butterflies were enjoying themselves so in the sunshine in my garden. +And the swallows.”</p> + +<p>Godiva was telegraphic in speech.</p> + +<p>“Lucky birds,” she said. “No teeth. Beaks.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp remembered her disappearance round the dentist’s corner +half an hour ago, and her own firm inference on the problem.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +“Toothache, darling?” she said. “So sorry.”</p> + +<p>“Wisdom,” said Godiva. “Out at one o’clock. Gas. +Ready for bridge this afternoon. Playing? Poppits.”</p> + +<p>“If I can squeeze it in, dear,” said Miss Mapp. “Such +a hustle to-day.”</p> + +<p>Diva put her hand to her face as “wisdom” gave her an awful +twinge. Of course she did not believe in the “hustle,” but +her pangs prevented her from caring much.</p> + +<p>“Meet you then,” she said. “Shall be all comfortable +then. Au——”</p> + +<p>This was more than could be borne, and Miss Mapp hastily interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Au reservoir, Diva dear,” she said with extreme acerbity, +and Diva’s feet began swiftly revolving again.</p> + +<p>The problem about the bridge-party thus seemed to be solved. The two +Poppits, the two Bartletts, the Major and the Captain with Diva darling +and herself made eight, and Miss Mapp with a sudden recrudescence of +indignation against Isabel with regard to the red-currant fool and the +belated invitation, made up her mind that she would not be able to +squeeze it in, thus leaving the party one short. Even apart from the +red-currant fool it served the Poppits right for not asking her +originally, but only when, as seemed now perfectly clear, somebody else +had disappointed them. But just as she emerged from the butcher’s +shop, having gained a complete victory in the matter of that suet, +without expending the last breath in her body or anything like it, the +whole of the seemingly solid structure came toppling to the ground. For +on emerging, flushed with triumph, leaving the baffled butcher to try +his tricks on somebody else if he chose but not on Miss Mapp, she ran +straight into the Disgrace of Tilling and her sex, the suffragette, +post-impressionist artist (who painted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +from the nude, both male and female), the socialist and the Germanophil, +all incarnate in one frame. In spite of these execrable antecedents, it +was quite in vain that Miss Mapp had tried to poison the collective mind +of Tilling against this Creature. If she hated anybody, and she +undoubtedly did, she hated Irene Coles. The bitterest part of it all was +that if Miss Coles was amused at anybody, and she undoubtedly was, she +was amused at Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>Miss Coles was strolling along in the attire to which Tilling generally +had got accustomed, but Miss Mapp never. She had an old wide-awake hat +jammed down on her head, a tall collar and stock, a large loose coat, +knickerbockers and grey stockings. In her mouth was a cigarette, in her +hand she swung the orthodox wicker-basket. She had certainly been to the +other fishmonger’s at the end of the High Street, for a lobster, +revived perhaps after a sojourn on the ice, by this warm sun, which the +butterflies and the swallows had been rejoicing in, was climbing with +claws and waving legs over the edge of it.</p> + +<p>Irene removed her cigarette from her mouth and did something in the +gutter which is usually associated with the floor of third-class smoking +carriages. Then her handsome, boyish face, more boyish because her hair +was closely clipped, broke into a broad grin.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Mapp!” she said. “Been giving the tradesmen +what for on Tuesday morning?”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp found it extremely difficult to bear this obviously insolent +form of address without a spasm of rage. Irene called her Mapp because +she chose to, and Mapp (more bitterness) felt it wiser not to provoke +Coles. She had a dreadful, humorous tongue, an indecent disregard of +public or private opinion, and her gift of mimicry was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +as appalling as her opinion about the Germans. Sometimes Miss Mapp +alluded to her as “quaint Irene,” but that was as far as she +got in the way of reprisals.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you sweet thing!” she said. “Treasure!”</p> + +<p>Irene, in some ghastly way, seemed to take note of this. Why men like +Captain Puffin and Major Flint found Irene “fetching” and +“killing” was more than Miss Mapp could understand, or +wanted to understand.</p> + +<p>Quaint Irene looked down at her basket.</p> + +<p>“Why, there’s my lunch going over the top like those beastly +British Tommies,” she said, “Get back, love.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp could not quite determine whether “love” was a +sarcastic echo of “Treasure.” It seemed probable.</p> + +<p>“Oh, what a dear little lobster,” she said. “Look at +his sweet claws.”</p> + +<p>“I shall do more than look at them soon,” said Irene, poking +it into her basket again. “Come and have tiffin, qui-hi, +I’ve got to look after myself to-day.”</p> + +<p>“What has happened to your devoted Lucy?” asked Miss Mapp. +Irene lived in a very queer way with one gigantic maid, who, but for her +sex, might have been in the Guards.</p> + +<p>“Ill. I suspect scarlet-fever,” said Irene. “Very +infectious, isn’t it? I was up nursing her all last night.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp recoiled. She did not share Major Flint’s robust views +about microbes.</p> + +<p>“But I hope, dear, you’ve thoroughly +disinfected——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. Soap and water,” said Irene. “By the way, +are you Poppiting this afternoon?”</p> + +<p>“If I can squeeze it in,” said Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>“We’ll meet again, then. Oh——”</p> + +<p>“Au reservoir,” said Miss Mapp instantly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +“No; not that silly old chestnut!” said Irene. “I +wasn’t going to say that. I was only going to say: ‘Oh, do +come to tiffin.’ You and me and the lobster. Then you and me. But +it’s a bore about Lucy. I was painting her. Fine figure, gorgeous +legs. You wouldn’t like to sit for me till she’s well +again?”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp gave a little squeal and bolted into her dressmaker’s. +She always felt battered after a conversation with Irene, and needed +kingfisher blue to restore her.</p> + +<hr /><h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p>There is not in all England a town so blatantly picturesque as Tilling, +nor one, for the lover of level marsh land, of tall reedy dykes, of +enormous sunsets and rims of blue sea on the horizon, with so fortunate +an environment. The hill on which it is built rises steeply from the +level land, and, crowned by the great grave church so conveniently close +to Miss Mapp’s residence, positively consists of quaint corners, +rough-cast and timber cottages, and mellow Georgian fronts. Corners and +quaintnesses, gems, glimpses and bits are an obsession to the artist, +and in consequence, during the summer months, not only did the majority +of its inhabitants turn out into the cobbled ways with sketching-blocks, +canvases and paintboxes, but every morning brought into the town +charabancs from neighbouring places loaded with passengers, many of whom +joined the artistic residents, and you would have thought (until an +inspection of their productions convinced you of the contrary) that some +tremendous outburst of Art was rivalling the Italian Renaissance. For +those who were capable of tackling straight lines and the intricacies of +perspective there were the steep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +cobbled streets of charming and irregular architecture, while for those +who rightly felt themselves colourists rather than architectural +draughtsmen, there was the view from the top of the hill over the +marshes. There, but for one straight line to mark the horizon (and that +could easily be misty) there were no petty conventionalities in the way +of perspective, and the eager practitioner could almost instantly plunge +into vivid greens and celestial blues, or, at sunset, into pinks and +chromes and rose-madder.</p> + +<p>Tourists who had no pictorial gifts would pick their way among the +sketchers, and search the shops for cracked china and bits of brass. Few +if any of them left without purchasing one of the famous Tilling +money-boxes, made in the shape of a pottery pig, who bore on his back +that remarkable legend of his authenticity which ran:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I won’t be druv,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I am willing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good morning, my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said the Pig of Tilling.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Miss Mapp had a long shelf full of these in every colour to adorn her +dining-room. The one which completed her collection, of a pleasant +magenta colour, had only just been acquired. She called them “My +sweet rainbow of piggies,” and often when she came down to +breakfast, especially if Withers was in the room, she said: “Good +morning, quaint little piggies.” When Withers had left the room +she counted them.</p> + +<p>The corner where the street took a turn towards the church, just below +the window of her garden-room, was easily the most popular stance for +sketchers. You were bewildered and bowled over by “bits.” +For the most accomplished of all there was that rarely attempted feat, +the view of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +steep downward street, which, in spite of all the efforts of the artist, +insisted, in the sketch, on going up hill instead. Then, next in +difficulty, was the street after it had turned, running by the +gardener’s cottage up to the churchyard and the church. This, in +spite of its difficulty, was a very favourite subject, for it included, +on the right of the street, just beyond Miss Mapp’s garden wall, +the famous crooked chimney, which was continually copied from every +point of view. The expert artist would draw it rather more crooked than +it really was, in order that there might be no question that he had not +drawn it crooked by accident. This sketch was usually negotiated from +the three steps in front of Miss Mapp’s front door. Opposite the +church-and-chimney-artists would sit others, drawing the front door +itself (difficult), and moistening their pencils at their cherry lips, +while a little further down the street was another battalion hard at +work at the gabled front of the garden-room and its picturesque bow. It +was a favourite occupation of Miss Mapp’s, when there was a decent +gathering of artists outside, to pull a table right into the window of +the garden-room, in full view of them, and, quite unconscious of their +presence, to arrange flowers there with a smiling and pensive +countenance. She had other little playful public pastimes: she would get +her kitten from the house, and induce it to sit on the table while she +diverted it with the tassel of the blind, and she would kiss it on its +sweet little sooty head, or she would write letters in the window, or +play Patience there, and then suddenly become aware that there was no +end of ladies and gentlemen looking at her. Sometimes she would come out +of the house, if the steps were very full, with her own sketching +paraphernalia in her hands and say, ever so coyly: “May I scriggle +through?” or ask<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +the squatters on her own steps if they could find a little corner for +her. That was so interesting for them: they would remember afterwards +that just while they were engaged on their sketches, the lady of that +beautiful house at the corner, who had been playing with her kitten in +the window, came out to sketch too. She addressed gracious and yet +humble remarks to them: “I see you are painting my sweet little +home. May I look? Oh, what a lovely little sketch!” Once, on a +never-to-be-forgotten day, she observed one of them take a camera from +his pocket and rapidly focus her as she stood on the top step. She +turned full-faced and smiling to the camera just in time to catch the +click of the shutter, but then it was too late to hide her face, and +perhaps the picture might appear in the <i>Graphic</i> or the <i>Sketch</i>, or +among the posturing nymphs of a neighbouring watering-place…</p> + +<p>This afternoon she was content to “scriggle” through the +sketchers, and humming a little tune, she passed up to the churchyard. +(“Scriggle” was one of her own words, highly popular; it +connoted squeezing and wriggling.) There she carefully concealed herself +under the boughs of the weeping ash tree directly opposite the famous +south porch of the church. She had already drawn in the lines of this +south porch on her sketching-block, transferring them there by means of +a tracing from a photograph, so that formed a very promising beginning +to her sketch. But she was nicely placed not only with regard to her +sketch, for, by peeping through the pretty foliage of the tree, she +could command the front door of Mrs. Poppit’s (M.B.E.) house.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp’s plans for the bridge-party had, of course, been +completely upset by the encounter with Irene in the High Street. Up till +that moment she had imagined that,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +with the two ladies of the house and the Bartletts and the Major and the +Captain and Godiva and herself, two complete tables of bridge would be +formed, and she had, therefore, determined that she would not be able to +squeeze the party into her numerous engagements, thereby spoiling the +second table. But now everything was changed: there were eight without +her, and unless, at a quarter to four, she saw reason to suppose, by +noting the arrivals at the house, that three bridge tables were in +contemplation, she had made up her mind to “squeeze it in,” +so that there would be nine gamblers, and Isabel or her mother, if they +had any sense of hospitality to their guests, would be compelled to sit +out for ever and ever. Miss Mapp had been urgently invited: sweet Isabel +had made a great point of her squeezing it in, and if sweet Isabel, in +order to be certain of a company of eight, had asked quaint Irene as +well, it would serve her right. An additional reason, besides this piece +of good-nature in managing to squeeze it in, for the sake of sweet +Isabel, lay in the fact that she would be able to take some red-currant +fool, and after one spoonful exclaim “Delicious,” and leave +the rest uneaten.</p> + +<p>The white butterflies and the swallows were still enjoying themselves in +the sunshine, and so, too, were the gnats, about whose pleasure, +especially when they settled on her face, Miss Mapp did not care so +much. But soon she quite ceased to regard them, for, before the quaint +little gilded boys on each side of the clock above the north porch had +hammered out the three-quarters after three on their bells, visitors +began to arrive at the Poppits” door, and Miss Mapp was very +active looking through the boughs of the weeping ash and sitting down +again to smile and ponder over her sketch with her head a little on one +side, if anybody approached. One by one the expected guests<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +presented themselves and were admitted: Major Flint and Captain Puffin, +the Padre and his wife, darling Diva with her head muffled in a +“cloud,” and finally Irene, still dressed as she had been in +the morning, and probably reeking with scarlet-fever. With the two +Poppits these made eight players, so as soon as Irene had gone in, Miss +Mapp hastily put her sketching things away, and holding her +admirably-accurate drawing with its wash of sky not quite dry, in her +hand, hurried to the door, for it would never do to arrive after the two +tables had started, since in that case it would be she who would have to +sit out.</p> + +<p>Boon opened the door to her three staccato little knocks, and sulkily +consulted his list. She duly appeared on it and was admitted. Having +banged the door behind her he crushed the list up in his hand and threw +it into the fireplace: all those whose presence was desired had arrived, +and Boon would turn his bovine eye on any subsequent caller, and say +that his mistress was out.</p> + +<p>“And may I put my sketching things down here, please, Boon,” +said Miss Mapp ingratiatingly. “And will no one touch my drawing? +It’s a little wet still. The church porch.”</p> + +<p>Boon made a grunting noise like the Tilling pig, and slouched away in +front of her down the passage leading to the garden, sniffing. There +they were, with the two bridge-tables set out in a shady corner of the +lawn, and a buffet vulgarly heaped with all sorts of dainty confections +which made Miss Mapp’s mouth water, obliging her to swallow +rapidly once or twice before she could manage a wide, dry smile: Isabel +advanced.</p> + +<p>“De-do, dear,” said Miss Mapp. “Such a rush! But +managed to squeeze it in, as you wouldn’t let me off.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that was nice of you, Miss Mapp,” said Isabel. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>A wild and awful surmise seized Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>“And your dear mother?” she said. “Where is Mrs. +Poppit?”</p> + +<p>“Mamma had to go to town this morning. She won’t be back +till close on dinner-time.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp’s smile closed up like a furled umbrella. The trap had +snapped behind her: it was impossible now to scriggle away. She had +completed, instead of spoiling, the second table.</p> + +<p>“So we’re just eight,” said Isabel, poking at her, so +to speak, through the wires. “Shall we have a rubber first and +then some tea? Or tea first. What says everybody?”</p> + +<p>Restless and hungry murmurs, like those heard at the sea-lions’ +enclosure in the Zoological Gardens when feeding-time approaches, seemed +to indicate tea first, and with gallant greetings from the Major, and +archaistic welcomes from the Padre, Miss Mapp headed the general +drifting movement towards the buffet. There may have been tea there, but +there was certainly iced coffee and Lager beer and large jugs with dew +on the outside and vegetables floating in a bubbling liquid in the +inside, and it was all so vulgar and opulent that with one accord +everyone set to work in earnest, in order that the garden should present +a less gross and greedy appearance. But there was no sign at present of +the red-currant fool, which was baffling…</p> + +<p>“And have you had a good game of golf, Major?" asked Miss Mapp, +making the best of these miserable circumstances. “Such a lovely +day! The white butterflies were enjoying——”</p> + +<p>She became aware that Diva and the Padre, who had already heard about +the white butterflies, were in her immediate neighbourhood, and broke +off.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +“Which of you beat? Or should I say ‘won!’” she +asked.</p> + +<p>Major Flint’s long moustache was dripping with Lager beer, and he +made a dexterous, sucking movement.</p> + +<p>“Well, the Army and the Navy had it out,” he said. +“And for once Britain’s Navy was not invincible, eh, +Puffin?”</p> + +<p>Captain Puffin limped away pretending not to hear, and took his heaped +plate and brimming glass in the direction of Irene.</p> + +<p>“But I’m sure Captain Puffin played quite beautifully +too,” said Miss Mapp in the vain attempt to detain him. She liked +to collect all the men round her, and then scold them for not talking to +the other ladies.</p> + +<p>“Well, a game’s a game,” said the Major. “It +gets through the hours, Miss Mapp. Yes: we finished at the fourteenth +hole, and hurried back to more congenial society. And what have you done +to-day? Fairy-errands, I’ll be bound. Titania! Ha!”</p> + +<p>Suet errands and errands about a missing article of underclothing were +really the most important things that Miss Mapp had done to-day, now +that her bridge-party scheme had so miscarried, but naturally she would +not allude to these.</p> + +<p>“A little gardening,” she said. “A little sketching. A +little singing. Not time to change my frock and put on something less +shabby. But I wouldn’t have kept sweet Isabel’s bridge-party +waiting for anything, and so I came straight from my painting here. +Padre, I’ve been trying to draw the lovely south porch. But so +difficult! I shall give up trying to draw, and just enjoy myself with +looking. And there’s your dear Evie! How de do, Evie love?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +Godiva Plaistow had taken off her cloud for purposes of mastication, but +wound it tightly round her head again as soon as she had eaten as much +as she could manage. This had to be done on one side of her mouth, or +with the front teeth in the nibbling manner of a rabbit. Everybody, of +course, by now knew that she had had a wisdom tooth out at one p.m. with +gas, and she could allude to it without explanation.</p> + +<p>“Dreamed I was playing bridge,” she said, “and had a +hand of aces. As I played the first it went off in my hand. All over. +Blood. Hope it’ll come true. Bar the blood.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp found herself soon afterwards partnered with Major Flint and +opposed by Irene and the Padre. They had hardly begun to consider their +first hands when Boon staggered out into the garden under the weight of +a large wooden bucket, packed with ice, that surrounded an interior +cylinder.</p> + +<p>“Red currant fool at last,” thought Miss Mapp, adding aloud: +“O poor little me, is it, to declare? Shall I say ‘no +trumps?’”</p> + +<p>“Mustn’t consult your partner, Mapp,” said Irene, +puffing the end of her cigarette out of its holder. Irene was painfully +literal.</p> + +<p>“I don’t, darling,” said Miss Mapp, beginning to fizz +a little. “No trumps. Not a trump. Not any sort of trump. There! +What are we playing for, by the way?”</p> + +<p>“Bob a hundred,” said the Padre, forgetting to be either +Scotch or archaic.</p> + +<p>“Oh, gambler! You want the poor-box to be the rich box, +Padre,” said Miss Mapp, surveying her magnificent hand with the +greatest satisfaction. If it had not contained so many court-cards, she +would have proposed playing for sixpence, not a shilling a hundred.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +All semblance of manners was invariably thrown to the winds by the +ladies of Tilling when once bridge began; primeval hatred took their +place. The winners of any hand were exasperatingly condescending to the +losers, and the losers correspondingly bitter and tremulous. Miss Mapp +failed to get her contract, as her partner’s contribution to +success consisted of more twos and threes than were ever seen together +before, and when quaint Irene at the end said, “Bad luck, +Mapp,” Miss Mapp’s hands trembled so much with passion that +she with difficulty marked the score. But she could command her voice +sufficiently to say, “Lovely of you to be sympathetic, +dear.” Irene in answer gave a short, hoarse laugh and dealed.</p> + +<p>By this time Boon had deposited at the left hand of each player a cup +containing a red creamy fluid, on the surface of which bubbles +intermittently appeared. Isabel, at this moment being dummy, had +strolled across from the other table to see that everybody was +comfortable and provided with sustenance in times of stress, and here +was clearly the proper opportunity for Miss Mapp to take a spoonful of +this attempt at red-currant fool, and with a wry face, hastily (but not +too hastily) smothered in smiles, to push the revolting compound away +from her. But the one spoonful that she took was so delicious and +exhilarating, that she was positively unable to be good for Isabel. +Instead, she drank her cup to the dregs in an absent manner, while +considering how many trumps were out. The red-currant fool made a +similarly agreeable impression on Major Flint.</p> + +<p>“’Pon my word,” he said. “That’s amazingly +good. Cooling on a hot day like this. Full of champagne.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp, seeing that it was so popular, had, of course, to claim it +again as a family invention.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +“No, dear Major,” she said. “There’s no +champagne in it. It’s my Grandmamma Mapp’s famous +red-currant fool, with little additions perhaps by me. No champagne: +yolk of egg and a little cream. Dear Isabel has got it very nearly +right.”</p> + +<p>The Padre had promised to take more tricks in diamonds than he had the +slightest chance of doing. His mental worry communicated itself to his +voice.</p> + +<p>“And why should there be nary a wee drappie o’ champagne in +it?” he said, “though your Grandmamma Mapp did invent it. +Weel, let’s see your hand, partner. Eh, that’s a sair +sight.”</p> + +<p>“And there’ll be a sair wee score agin us when ye’re +through with the playin’ o’ it,” said Irene, in tones +that could not be acquitted of a mocking intent. “Why the +hell—hallelujah did you go on when I didn’t support +you?”</p> + +<p>Even that one glass of red-currant fool, though there was no champagne +in it, had produced, together with the certainty that her opponent had +overbidden his hand, a pleasant exhilaration in Miss Mapp; but yolk of +egg, as everybody knew, was a strong stimulant. Suddenly the name +red-currant fool seemed very amusing to her.</p> + +<p>“Red-currant fool!” she said. “What a quaint, +old-fashioned name! I shall invent some others. I shall tell my cook to +make some gooseberry-idiot, or strawberry-donkey… My play, I +think. A ducky little ace of spades.”</p> + +<p>“Haw! haw! gooseberry idiot!” said her partner. +“Capital! You won’t beat that in a hurry! And a two of +spades on the top of it.”</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t expect to find a two of spades at the bottom +of it,” said the Padre with singular acidity.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +The Major was quick to resent this kind of comment from a man, cloth or +no cloth.</p> + +<p>“Well, by your leave, Bartlett, by your leave, I repeat,” he +said, “I shall expect to find twos of spades precisely where I +please, and when I want your criticism——”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp hastily intervened.</p> + +<p>“And after my wee ace, a little king-piece,” she said. +“And if my partner doesn’t play the queen to it! Delicious! +And I play just one more… Yes … lovely, partner puts wee +trumpy on it! I’m not surprised; it takes more than that to +surprise me; and then Padre’s got another spade, I ken +fine!”</p> + +<p>“Hoots!” said the Padre with temperate disgust.</p> + +<p>The hand proceeded for a round or two in silence, during which, by winks +and gestures to Boon, the Major got hold of another cupful of +red-currant fool. There was already a heavy penalty of tricks against +Miss Mapp’s opponents, and after a moment’s refreshment, the +Major led a club, of which, at this period, Miss Mapp seemed to have +none. She felt happier than she had been ever since, trying to spoil +Isabel’s second table, she had only succeeded in completing it.</p> + +<p>“Little trumpy again,” she said, putting it on with the +lightness of one of the white butterflies and turning the trick. +“Useful little trumpy——”</p> + +<p>She broke off suddenly from the chant of victory which ladies of Tilling +were accustomed to indulge in during cross-roughs, for she discovered in +her hand another more than useless little clubby… The silence +that succeeded became tense in quality. Miss Mapp knew she had revoked +and squeezed her brains to think how she could possibly dispose of the +card, while there was a certain calmness about the Padre, which but too +clearly indicated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +that he was quite content to wait for the inevitable disclosure. This +came at the last trick, and though Miss Mapp made one forlorn attempt to +thrust the horrible little clubby underneath the other cards and gather +them up, the Padre pounced on it.</p> + +<p>“What ho, fair lady!” he said, now completely restored. +“Methinks thou art forsworn! Let me have a keek at the last trick +but three! Verily I wis that thou didst trump ye club aforetime. I said +so; there it is. Eh, that’s bonny for us, partner!”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp, of course, denied it all, and a ruthless reconstruction of +the tricks took place. The Major, still busy with red-currant fool, was +the last to grasp the disaster, and then instantly deplored the +unsportsmanlike greed of his adversaries.</p> + +<p>“Well, I should have thought in a friendly game like +this——” he said. “Of course, you’re within +your right, Bartlett: might is right, hey? but upon my word, a pound of +flesh, you know… Can’t think what made you do it, +partner.”</p> + +<p>“You never asked me if I had any more clubs,” said Miss Mapp +shrilly, giving up for the moment the contention that she had not +revoked. “I always ask if my partner has no more of a suit, and I +always maintain that a revoke is more the partner’s fault than the +player’s. Of course, if our adversaries claim +it——”</p> + +<p>“Naturally we do, Mapp,” said Irene. “You were down on +me sharp enough the other day.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp wrinkled her face up into the sweetest and extremest smile of +which her mobile features were capable.</p> + +<p>“Darling, you won’t mind my telling you that just at this +moment you are being dummy,” she said, “and so you +mustn’t speak a single word. Otherwise there is no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +revoke, even if there was at all, which I consider far from proved +yet.”</p> + +<p>There was no further proof possible beyond the clear and final evidence +of the cards, and since everybody, including Miss Mapp herself, was +perfectly well aware that she had revoked, their opponents merely marked +up the penalty and the game proceeded. Miss Mapp, of course, following +the rule of correct behaviour after revoking, stiffened into a state of +offended dignity, and was extremely polite and distant with partner and +adversaries alike. This demeanour became even more majestic when in the +next hand the Major led out of turn. The moment he had done it, Miss +Mapp hurriedly threw a random card out of her hand on to the table, in +the hope that Irene, by some strange aberration, would think she had led +first.</p> + +<p>“Wait a second,” said she. “I call a lead. Give me a +trump, please.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly the awful expression as of some outraged empress faded from +Miss Mapp’s face, and she gave a little shriek of laughter which +sounded like a squeaking slate pencil.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t got one, dear,” she said. “Now may I +have your permission to lead what I think best? Thank you.”</p> + +<p>There now existed between the four players that state of violent +animosity which was the usual atmosphere towards the end of a rubber. +But it would have been a capital mistake to suppose that they were not +all enjoying themselves immensely. Emotion is the salt of life, and here +was no end of salt. Everyone was overbidding his hand, and the penalty +tricks were a glorious cause of vituperation, scarcely veiled, between +the partners who had failed to make good, and caused epidemics of +condescending sympathy from the adversaries which produced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +a passion in the losers far keener than their fury at having lost. What +made the concluding stages of this contest the more exciting was that an +evening breeze suddenly arising just as a deal was ended, made the cards +rise in the air like a covey of partridges. They were recaptured, and +all the hands were found to be complete with the exception of Miss +Mapp’s, which had a card missing. This, an ace of hearts, was +discovered by the Padre, face upwards, in a bed of mignonette, and he +was vehement in claiming a fresh deal, on the grounds that the card was +exposed. Miss Mapp could not speak at all in answer to this preposterous +claim: she could only smile at him, and proceed to declare trumps as if +nothing had happened… The Major alone failed to come up to the +full measure of these enjoyments, for though all the rest of them were +as angry with him as they were with each other, he remained in a most +indecorous state of good-humour, drinking thirstily of the red-currant +fool, and when he was dummy, quite failing to mind whether Miss Mapp got +her contract or not. Captain Puffin, at the other table, seemed to be +behaving with the same impropriety, for the sound of his shrill, +falsetto laugh was as regular as his visits to the bucket of red-currant +fool. What if there was champagne in it after all, so Miss Mapp luridly +conjectured! What if this unseemly good-humour was due to incipient +intoxication? She took a little more of that delicious decoction +herself.</p> + +<p>It was unanimously determined, when the two rubbers came to an end +almost simultaneously, that, as everything was so pleasant and +agreeable, there should be no fresh sorting of the players. Besides, the +second table was only playing stakes of sixpence a hundred, and it would +be very awkward and unsettling that anyone should play these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +moderate points in one rubber and those high ones the next. But at this +point Miss Mapp’s table was obliged to endure a pause, for the +Padre had to hurry away just before six to administer the rite of +baptism in the church which was so conveniently close. The Major +afforded a good deal of amusement, as soon as he was out of hearing, by +hoping that he would not baptize the child the Knave of Hearts if it was +a boy, or, if a girl, the Queen of Spades; but in order to spare the +susceptibilities of Mrs. Bartlett, this admirable joke was not +communicated to the next table, but enjoyed privately. The author of it, +however, made a note in his mind to tell it to Captain Puffin, in the +hopes that it would cause him to forget his ruinous half-crown defeat at +golf this morning. Quite as agreeable was the arrival of a fresh supply +of red-currant fool, and as this had been heralded a few minutes before +by a loud pop from the butler’s pantry, which looked on to the +lawn, Miss Mapp began to waver in her belief that there was no champagne +in it, particularly as it would not have suited the theory by which she +accounted for the Major’s unwonted good-humour, and her suggestion +that the pop they had all heard so clearly was the opening of a bottle +of stone ginger-beer was not delivered with conviction. To make sure, +however, she took one more sip of the new supply, and, irradiated with +smiles, made a great concession.</p> + +<p>“I believe I was wrong,” she said. “There is something +in it beyond yolk of egg and cream. Oh, there’s Boon; he will tell +us.”</p> + +<p>She made a seductive face at Boon, and beckoned to him.</p> + +<p>“Boon, will you think it very inquisitive of me,” she asked +archly, “if I ask you whether you have put a teeny drop of +champagne into this delicious red-currant fool?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +“A bottle and a half, Miss,” said Boon morosely, “and +half a pint of old brandy. Will you have some more, Miss?”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp curbed her indignation at this vulgar squandering of precious +liquids, so characteristic of Poppits. She gave a shrill little laugh.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, thank you, Boon!” she said. “I mustn’t +have any more. Delicious, though.”</p> + +<p>Major Flint let Boon fill up his cup while he was not looking.</p> + +<p>“And we owe this to your grandmother, Miss Mapp?” he asked +gallantly. “That’s a second debt.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp acknowledged this polite subtlety with a reservation.</p> + +<p>“But not the champagne in it, Major,” she said. +“Grandmamma Nap——”</p> + +<p>The Major beat his thigh in ecstasy.</p> + +<p>“Ha! That’s a good Spoonerism for Miss Isabel’s +book,” he said. “Miss Isabel, we’ve got a +new——”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp was very much puzzled at this slight confusion in her speech, +for her utterance was usually remarkably distinct. There might be some +little joke made at her expense on the effect of Grandmamma Mapp’s +invention if this lovely Spoonerism was published. But if she who had +only just tasted the red-currant fool tripped in her speech, how amply +were Major Flint’s good nature and Captain Puffin’s +incessant laugh accounted for. She herself felt very good-natured, too. +How pleasant it all was!</p> + +<p>“Oh, naughty!” she said to the Major. “Pray, hush! +you’re disturbing them at their rubber. And here’s the Padre +back again!”</p> + +<p>The new rubber had only just begun (indeed, it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +lucky that they cut their cards without any delay) when Mrs. Poppit +appeared on her return from her expedition to London. Miss Mapp begged +her to take her hand, and instantly began playing.</p> + +<p>“It would really be a kindness to me, Mrs. Poppit,” she +said; “(No diamonds at all, partner?) but of course, if you +won’t—— You’ve been missing such a lovely party. +So much enjoyment!”</p> + +<p>Suddenly she saw that Mrs. Poppit was wearing on her ample breast a +small piece of riband with a little cross attached to it. Her entire +stock of good-humour vanished, and she smiled her widest.</p> + +<p>“We needn’t ask what took you to London,” she said. +“Congratulations! How was the dear King?”</p> + +<p>This rubber was soon over, and even as they were adding up the score, +there arose a shrill outcry from the next table, where Mrs. Plaistow, as +usual, had made the tale of her winnings sixpence in excess of what +anybody else considered was due to her. The sound of that was so +familiar that nobody looked up or asked what was going on.</p> + +<p>“Darling Diva and her bawbees, Padre,” said Miss Mapp in an +aside. “So modest in her demands. Oh, she’s stopped! +Somebody has given her sixpence. Not another rubber? Well, perhaps it is +rather late, and I must say good-night to my flowers before they close +up for the night. All those shillings mine? Fancy!”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp was seething with excitement, curiosity and rage, as with +Major Flint on one side of her and Captain Puffin on the other, she was +escorted home. The excitement was due to her winnings, the rage to Mrs. +Poppit’s Order, the curiosity to the clue she believed she had +found to those inexplicable lights that burned so late in the houses of +her companions. Certainly it seemed that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +Major Flint was trying not to step on the joints of the paving-stones, +and succeeding very imperfectly, while Captain Puffin, on her left, was +walking very unevenly on the cobbles. Even making due allowance for the +difficulty of walking evenly there at any time, Miss Mapp could not help +thinking that a teetotaller would have made a better job of it than +that. Both gentlemen talked at once, very agreeably but rather +carefully, Major Flint promising himself a studious evening over some +very interesting entries in his Indian Diary, while Captain Puffin +anticipated the speedy solution of that problem about the Roman road +which had puzzled him so long. As they said their “Au +reservoirs” to her on her doorstep, they took off their hats more +often than politeness really demanded.</p> + +<p>Once in her house Miss Mapp postponed her good-nights to her sweet +flowers, and hurried with the utmost speed of which she was capable to +her garden-room, in order to see what her companions were doing. They +were standing in the middle of the street, and Major Flint, with +gesticulating forefinger, was being very impressive over +something…</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Interesting as was Miss Mapp’s walk home, and painful as was the +light which it had conceivably thrown on the problem that had baffled +her for so long, she might have been even more acutely disgusted had she +lingered on with the rest of the bridge-party in Mrs. Poppit’s +garden, so revolting was the sycophantic loyalty of the newly-decorated +Member of the British Empire… She described minutely her arrival +at the Palace, her momentary nervousness as she entered the Throne-room, +the instantaneousness with which that all vanished when she came face to +face with her Sovereign.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +“I assure you, he gave the most gracious smile,” she said, +“just as if we had known each other all our lives, and I felt at +home at once. And he said a few words to me—such a beautiful voice +he has. Dear Isabel, I wish you had been there to hear it, and +then——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mamma, what did he say?” asked Isabel, to the great +relief of Mrs. Plaistow and the Bartletts, for while they were bursting +with eagerness to know with the utmost detail all that had taken place, +the correct attitude in Tilling was profound indifference to anybody of +whatever degree who did not live at Tilling, and to anything that did +not happen there. In particular, any manifestation of interest in kings +or other distinguished people was held to be a very miserable +failing… So they all pretended to look about them, and take no +notice of what Mrs. Poppit was saying, and you might have heard a pin +drop. Diva silently and hastily unwound her cloud from over her ears, +risking catching cold in the hole where her tooth had been, so terrified +was she of missing a single syllable.</p> + +<p>“Well, it was very gratifying,” said Mrs. Poppit; “he +whispered to some gentleman standing near him, who I think was the Lord +Chamberlain, and then told me how interested he had been in the good +work of the Tilling hospital, and how especially glad he was to be +able—and just then he began to pin my Order on—to be able to +recognize it. Now I call that wonderful to know all about the Tilling +hospital! And such neat, quick fingers he has: I am sure it would take +me double the time to make a safety-pin hold, and then he gave me +another smile, and passed me on, so to speak, to the Queen, who stood +next him, and who had been listening to all he had said.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +“And did she speak to you too?” asked Diva, quite unable to +maintain the right indifference.</p> + +<p>“Indeed she did: she said, ‘So pleased,’ and what she +put into those two words I’m sure I can never convey to you. I +could hear how sincere they were: it was no set form of words, as if she +meant nothing by it. She <i>was</i> pleased: she was just as interested in +what I had done for the Tilling hospital as the King was. And the crowds +outside: they lined the Mall for at least fifty yards. I was bowing and +smiling on this side and that till I felt quite dizzy.”</p> + +<p>“And was the Prince of Wales there?” asked Diva, beginning +to wind her head up again. She did not care about the crowds.</p> + +<p>“No, he wasn’t there,” said Mrs. Poppit, determined to +have no embroidery in her story, however much other people, especially +Miss Mapp, decorated remarkable incidents till you hardly recognized +them. “He wasn’t there. I daresay something had unexpectedly +detained him, though I shouldn’t wonder if before long we all saw +him. For I noticed in the evening paper which I was reading on the way +down here, after I had seen the King, that he was going to stay with +Lord Ardingly for this very next week-end. And what’s the station +for Ardingly Park if it isn’t Tilling? Though it’s quite a +private visit, I feel convinced that the right and proper thing for me +to do is to be at the station, or, at any rate, just outside, with my +Order on. I shall not claim acquaintance with him, or anything of that +kind,” said Mrs. Poppit, fingering her Order; “but after my +reception to-day at the Palace, nothing can be more likely than that His +Majesty might mention—quite casually, of course—to the +Prince that he had just given a decoration to Mrs. Poppit of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +Tilling. And it would make me feel very awkward to think that that had +happened, and I was not somewhere about to make my curtsy.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mamma, may I stand by you, or behind you?” asked +Isabel, completely dazzled by the splendour of this prospect and +prancing about the lawn…</p> + +<p>This was quite awful: it was as bad as, if not worse than, the +historically disastrous remark about super-tax, and a general rigidity, +as of some partial cataleptic seizure, froze Mrs. Poppit’s guests, +rendering them, like incomplete Marconi installations, capable of +receiving, but not of transmitting. They received these impressions, +they also continued (mechanically) to receive more chocolates and +sandwiches, and such refreshments as remained on the buffet; but no one +could intervene and stop Mrs. Poppit from exposing herself further. One +reason for this, of course, as already indicated, was that they all +longed for her to expose herself as much as she possibly could, for if +there was a quality—and, indeed, there were many—on which +Tilling prided itself, it was on its immunity from snobbishness: there +were, no doubt, in the great world with which Tilling concerned itself +so little kings and queens and dukes and Members of the Order of the +British Empire; but every Tillingite knew that he or she (particularly +she) was just as good as any of them, and indeed better, being more +fortunate than they in living in Tilling… And if there was a +process in the world which Tilling detested, it was being patronized, +and there was this woman telling them all what she felt it right and +proper for her, as Mrs. Poppit of Tilling (M.B.E.), to do, when the Heir +Apparent should pass through the town on Saturday. The rest of them, +Mrs. Poppit implied, might do what they liked, for they did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +matter; but she—she must put on her Order and make her curtsy. And +Isabel, by her expressed desire to stand beside, or even behind, her +mother for this degrading moment had showed of what stock she came.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Poppit had nothing more to say on this subject; indeed, as Diva +reflected, there was really nothing more that could be said, unless she +suggested that they should all bow and curtsy to her for the future, and +their hostess proceeded, as they all took their leave, to hope that they +had enjoyed the bridge-party which she had been unavoidably prevented +from attending.</p> + +<p>“But my absence made it possible to include Miss Mapp,” she +said. “I should not have liked poor Miss Mapp to feel left out; I +am always glad to give Miss Mapp pleasure. I hope she won her rubber; +she does not like losing. Will no one have a little more red-currant +fool? Boon has made it very tolerably to-day. A Scotch recipe of my +great-grandmother’s.”</p> + +<p>Diva gave a little cackle of laughter as she enfolded herself in her +cloud again. She had heard Miss Mapp’s ironical inquiry as to how +the dear King was, and had thought at the time that it was probably a +pity that Miss Mapp had said that.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Though abhorrence of snobbery and immunity from any taint of it was so +fine a characteristic of public social life at Tilling, the expected +passage of this distinguished visitor through the town on Saturday next +became very speedily known, and before the wicker-baskets of the ladies +in their morning marketings next day were half full, there was no +quarter which the news had failed to reach. Major Flint had it from Mrs. +Plaistow, as he went down to the eleven-twenty tram out to the +golf-links,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +and though he had not much time to spare (for his work last night on his +old diaries had caused him to breakfast unusually late that morning to +the accompaniment of a dismal headache from over-application), he had +stopped to converse with Miss Mapp immediately afterwards, with one eye +on the time, for naturally he could not fire off that sort of news +point-blank at her, as if it was a matter of any interest or importance.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, dear lady,” he said. “By Jove! what a +picture of health and freshness you are!”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp cast one glance at her basket to see that the paper quite +concealed that article of clothing which the perfidious laundry had +found. (Probably the laundry knew where it was all the time, +and—in a figurative sense, of course—was “trying it +on.”)</p> + +<p>“Early to bed and early to rise, Major,” she said. “I +saw my sweet flowers open their eyes this morning! Such a beautiful +dew!”</p> + +<p>“Well, my diaries kept me up late last night,” he said. +“When all you fascinating ladies have withdrawn is the only time +at which I can bring myself to sit down to them.”</p> + +<p>“Let me recommend six to eight in the morning, Major,” said +Miss Mapp earnestly. “Such a freshness of brain then.”</p> + +<p>That seemed to be a cul-de-sac in the way of leading up to the important +subject, and the Major tried another turning.</p> + +<p>“Good, well-fought game of bridge we had yesterday,” he +said. “Just met Mrs. Plaistow; she stopped on for a chat after we +had gone.”</p> + +<p>“Dear Diva; she loves a good gossip,” said Miss Mapp +effusively. “Such an interest she has in other +people’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +affairs. So human and sympathetic. I’m sure our dear hostess told +her all about her adventures at the Palace.”</p> + +<p>There was only seven minutes left before the tram started, and though +this was not a perfect opening, it would have to do. Besides, the Major +saw Mrs. Plaistow coming energetically along the High Street with +whirling feet.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and we haven’t finished with—ha—royalty +yet,” he said, getting the odious word out with difficulty. +“The Prince of Wales will be passing through the town on Saturday, +on his way to Ardingly Park, where he is spending the Sunday.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp was not betrayed into the smallest expression of interest.</p> + +<p>“That will be nice for him,” she said. “He will catch +a glimpse of our beautiful Tilling.”</p> + +<p>“So he will! Well, I’m off for my game of golf. Perhaps the +Navy will be a bit more efficient to-day.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure you will both play perfectly!” said Miss +Mapp.</p> + +<p>Diva had “popped” into the grocer’s. She always popped +everywhere just now; she popped across to see a friend, and she popped +home again; she popped into church on Sunday, and occasionally popped up +to town, and Miss Mapp was beginning to feel that somebody ought to let +her know, directly or by insinuation, that she popped too much. So, +thinking that an opportunity might present itself now, Miss Mapp read +the news-board outside the stationer’s till Diva popped out of the +grocer’s again. The headlines of news, even the largest of them, +hardly reached her brain, because it entirely absorbed in another +subject. Of course, the first thing was to find out by what +train…</p> + +<p>Diva trundled swiftly across the street.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Elizabeth,” she said. “You left +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +party too early yesterday. Missed a lot. How the King smiled! How the +Queen said ‘So pleased.’”</p> + +<p>“Our dear hostess would like that,” said Miss Mapp +pensively. “She would be so pleased, too. She and the Queen would +both be pleased. Quite a pair of them.”</p> + +<p>“By the way, on Saturday next——” began Diva.</p> + +<p>“I know, dear,” said Miss Mapp. “Major Flint told me. +It seemed quite to interest him. Now I must pop into the +stationer’s——”</p> + +<p>Diva was really very obtuse.</p> + +<p>“I’m popping in there, too,” she said. “Want a +time-table of the trains.”</p> + +<p>Wild horses would not have dragged from Miss Mapp that this was +precisely what she wanted.</p> + +<p>“I only wanted a little ruled paper,” she said. “Why, +here’s dear Evie popping out just as we pop in! Good morning, +sweet Evie. Lovely day again.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bartlett thrust something into her basket which very much resembled +a railway time-table. She spoke in a low, quick voice, as if afraid of +being overheard, and was otherwise rather like a mouse. When she was +excited she squeaked.</p> + +<p>“So good for the harvest,” she said. “Such an +important thing to have a good harvest. I hope next Saturday will be +fine; it would be a pity if he had a wet day. We were wondering, Kenneth +and I, what would be the proper thing to do, if he came over for +service—oh, here is Kenneth!”</p> + +<p>She stopped abruptly, as if afraid that she had betrayed too much +interest in next Saturday and Sunday. Kenneth would manage it much +better.</p> + +<p>“Ha! lady fair,” he exclaimed. “Having a bit crack +with wee wifey? Any news this bright morning?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +“No, dear Padre,” said Miss Mapp, showing her gums. +“At least, I’ve heard nothing of any interest. I can only +give you the news of my garden. Such lovely new roses in bloom to-day, +bless them!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Plaistow had popped into the stationer’s, so this perjury was +undetected.</p> + +<p>The Padre was noted for his diplomacy. Just now he wanted to convey the +impression that nothing which could happen next Saturday or Sunday could +be of the smallest interest to him; whereas he had spent an almost +sleepless night in wondering whether it would, in certain circumstances, +be proper to make a bow at the beginning of his sermon and another at +the end; whether he ought to meet the visitor at the west door; whether +the mayor ought to be told, and whether there ought to be special +psalms…</p> + +<p>“Well, lady fair,” he said. “Gossip will have it that +ye Prince of Wales is staying at Ardingly for the Sunday; indeed, he +will, I suppose, pass through Tilling on Saturday +afternoon——”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp put her forefinger to her forehead, as if trying to recollect +something.</p> + +<p>“Yes, now somebody did tell me that,” she said. "Major +Flint, I believe. But when you asked for news I thought you meant +something that really interested me. Yes, Padre?”</p> + +<p>“Aweel, if he comes to service on Sunday——?”</p> + +<p>“Dear Padre, I’m sure he’ll hear a very good sermon. +Oh, I see what you mean! Whether you ought to have any special hymn? +Don’t ask poor little me! Mrs. Poppit, I’m sure, would tell +you. She knows all about courts and etiquette.”</p> + +<p>Diva popped out of the stationer’s at this moment.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +“Sold out,” she announced. “Everybody wanted +time-tables this morning. Evie got the last. Have to go to the +station.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll walk with you, Diva, dear,” said Miss Mapp. +“There’s a parcel that—— Good-bye, dear Evie, au +reservoir.”</p> + +<p>She kissed her hand to Mrs. Bartlett, leaving a smile behind it, as it +fluttered away from her face, for the Padre.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp was so impenetrably wrapped in thought as she worked among her +sweet flowers that afternoon, that she merely stared at a +“love-in-a-mist,” which she had absently rooted up instead +of a piece of groundsel, without any bleeding of the heart for one of +her sweet flowers. There were two trains by which He might +arrive—one at 4.15, which would get him to Ardingly for tea, the +other at 6.45. She was quite determined to see him, but more inflexible +than that resolve was the Euclidean postulate that no one in Tilling +should think that she had taken any deliberate step to do so. For the +present she had disarmed suspicion by the blankness of her indifference +as to what might happen on Saturday or Sunday; but she herself strongly +suspected that everybody else, in spite of the public attitude of +Tilling to such subjects, was determined to see him too. How to see and +not be seen was the question which engrossed her, and though she might +possibly happen to be at that sharp corner outside the station where +every motor had to go slow, on the arrival of the 4.15, it would never +do to risk being seen there again precisely at 6.45. Mrs. Poppit, +shameless in her snobbery, would no doubt be at the station with her +Order on at both these hours, if the arrival did not take place by the +first train, and Isabel would be prancing by or behind her, and, in +fact, dreadful though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +it was to contemplate, all Tilling, she reluctantly believed, would be +hanging about… Then an idea struck her, so glorious, that she put +the uprooted love-in-a-mist in the weed-basket, instead of planting it +again, and went quickly indoors, up to the attics, and from there +popped—really popped, so tight was the fit—through a +trap-door on to the roof. Yes: the station was plainly visible, and if +the 4.15 was the favoured train, there would certainly be a motor from +Ardingly Park waiting there in good time for its arrival. From the +house-roof she could ascertain that, and she would then have time to +trip down the hill and get to her coal merchant’s at that sharp +corner outside the station, and ask, rather peremptorily, when the coke +for her central heating might be expected. It was due now, and though it +would be unfortunate if it arrived before Saturday, it was quite easy to +smile away her peremptory manner, and say that Withers had not told her. +Miss Mapp hated prevarication, but a major force sometimes came +along… But if no motors from Ardingly Park were in waiting for +the 4.15 (as spied from her house-roof), she need not risk being seen in +the neighbourhood of the station, but would again make observations some +few minutes before the 6.45 was due. There was positively no other train +by which He could come…</p> + +<p>The next day or two saw no traceable developments in the situation, but +Miss Mapp’s trained sense told her that there was underground work +of some kind going on: she seemed to hear faint hollow taps and muffled +knockings, and, so to speak, the silence of some unusual pregnancy. Up +and down the High Street she observed short whispered conversations +going on between her friends, which broke off on her <ins class='corr' +title="The original showed 'appraoch'.">approach</ins>. This only confirmed +her view that these secret colloquies were connected with Saturday<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +afternoon, for it was not to be expected that, after her freezing +reception of the news, any projected snobbishness should be confided to +her, and though she would have liked to know what Diva and Irene and +darling Evie were meaning to do, the fact that they none of them told +her, showed that they were aware that she, at any rate, was utterly +indifferent to and above that sort of thing. She suspected, too, that +Major Flint had fallen victim to this unTilling-like mania, for on +Friday afternoon, when passing his door, which happened to be standing +open, she quite distinctly saw him in front of his glass in the hall +(standing on the head of one of the tigers to secure a better view of +himself), trying on a silk top-hat. Her own errand at this moment was to +the draper’s, where she bought a quantity of pretty pale blue +braid, for a little domestic dress-making which was in arrears, and some +riband of the same tint. At this clever and unusual hour for shopping, +the High Street was naturally empty, and after a little hesitation and +many anxious glances to right and left, she plunged into the toy-shop +and bought a pleasant little Union Jack with a short stick attached to +it. She told Mr. Dabnet very distinctly that it was a present for her +nephew, and concealed it inside her parasol, where it lay quite flat and +made no perceptible bulge…</p> + +<p>At four o’clock on Saturday afternoon, she remembered that the +damp had come in through her bedroom ceiling in a storm last winter, and +told Withers she was going to have a look to see if any tiles were +loose. In order to ascertain this for certain, she took up through the +trap door a pair of binocular glasses, through which it was also easy to +identify anybody who might be in the open yard outside the station. Even +as she looked, Mrs. Poppit and Isabel crossed the yard into the +waiting-room and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +ticket-office. It was a little surprising that there were not more +friends in the station-yard, but at the moment she heard a loud Qui-hi +in the street below, and cautiously peering over the parapet, she got an +admirable view of the Major in a frock-coat and tall hat. A +“Coo-ee” answered him, and Captain Puffin, in a new suit +(Miss Mapp was certain of it) and a Panama hat, joined him. They went +down the street and turned the corner… Across the opening to the +High Street there shot the figure of darling Diva.</p> + +<p>While waiting for them to appear again in the station-yard, Miss Mapp +looked to see what vehicles were standing there. It was already ten +minutes past four, and the Ardingly motors must have been there by this +time, if there was anything “doing” by the 4.15. But +positively the only vehicle there was an open trolly laden with a piano +in a sack. Apart from knowing all about that piano, for Mrs. Poppit had +talked about little else than her new upright Bluthner before her visit +to Buckingham Palace, a moment’s reflection convinced Miss Mapp +that this was a very unlikely mode of conveyance for any guest… +She watched for a few moments more, but as no other friends appeared in +the station-yard, she concluded that they were hanging about the street +somewhere, poor things, and decided not to make inquiries about her coke +just yet.</p> + +<p>She had tea while she arranged flowers, in the very front of the window +in her garden-room, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing many of +the baffled loyalists trudging home. There was no need to do more than +smile and tap the window and kiss her hand: they all knew that she had +been busy with her flowers, and that she knew what they had been busy +about… Out again they all came towards half-past six, and when +she had watched the last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +of them down the hill, she hurried back to the roof again, to make a +final inspection of the loose tiles through her binoculars. Brief but +exciting was that inspection, for opposite the entrance to the station +was drawn up a motor. So clear was the air and so serviceable her +binoculars that she could distinguish the vulgar coronet on the panels, +and as she looked Mrs. Poppit and Isabel hurried across the +station-yard. It was then but the work of a moment to slip on the +dust-cloak trimmed with blue braid, adjust the hat with the blue riband, +and take up the parasol with its furled Union Jack inside it. The stick +of the flag was uppermost; she could whip it out in a moment.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Miss Mapp had calculated her appearance to a nicety. Just as she got to +the sharp corner opposite the station, where all cars slowed down and +her coal-merchant’s office was situated, the train drew up. By the +gates into the yard were standing the Major in his top-hat, the Captain +in his Panama, Irene in a civilized skirt; Diva in a brand-new walking +dress, and the Padre and wee wifey. They were all looking in the +direction of the station, and Miss Mapp stepped into the +coal-merchant’s unobserved. Oddly enough the coke had been sent +three days before, and there was no need for peremptoriness.</p> + +<p>“So good of you, Mr. Wootten!” she said; “and why +is everyone standing about this afternoon?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wootten explained the reason of this, and Miss Mapp, grasping her +parasol, went out again as the car left the station. There were too many +dear friends about, she decided, to use the Union Jack, and having seen +what she wanted to she determined to slip quietly away again. Already +the Major’s hat was in his hand, and he was bowing low, so too +were Captain Puffin and the Padre, while Irene,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +Diva and Evie were making little ducking movements… Miss Mapp was +determined, when it came to her turn, to show them, as she happened to +be on the spot, what a proper curtsy was.</p> + +<p>The car came opposite her, and she curtsied so low that recovery was +impossible, and she sat down in the road. Her parasol flew out of her +hand and out of her parasol flew the Union Jack. She saw a young man +looking out of the window, dressed in khaki, grinning broadly, but not, +so she thought, graciously, and it suddenly struck her that there was +something, beside her own part in the affair, which was not as it should +be. As he put his head in again there was loud laughter from the inside +of the car.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wootten helped her up and the entire assembly of her friends crowded +round her, hoping she was not hurt.</p> + +<p>“No, dear Major, dear Padre, not at all, thanks,” she said. +“So stupid: my ancle turned. Oh, yes, the Union Jack I bought for +my nephew, it’s his birthday to-morrow. Thank you. I just came to +see about my coke: of course I thought the Prince had arrived when you +all went down to meet the 4.15. Fancy my running straight into it all! +How well he looked.”</p> + +<p>This was all rather lame, and Miss Mapp hailed Mrs. Poppit’s +appearance from the station as a welcome diversion… Mrs. Poppit +was looking vexed.</p> + +<p>“I hope you saw him well, Mrs. Poppit,” said Miss Mapp, +“after meeting two trains, and taking all that trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Saw who?” said Mrs. Poppit with a deplorable lack both of +manner and grammar. “Why”—light seemed to break on her +odious countenance. “Why, you don’t think that was the +Prince, do you, Miss Mapp? He arrived here at one, so the station-master +has just told me, and has been playing golf all afternoon.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +The Major looked at the Captain, and the Captain at the Major. It was +months and months since they had missed their Saturday afternoon’s +golf.</p> + +<p>“It was the Prince of Wales who looked out of that +car-window,” said Miss Mapp firmly. “Such a pleasant smile. +I should know it anywhere.”</p> + +<p>“The young man who got into the car at the station was no more the +Prince of Wales than you are,” said Mrs. Poppit shrilly. “I +was close to him as he came out: I curtsied to him before I saw.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp instantly changed her attack: she could hardly hold her smile +on to her face for rage.</p> + +<p>“How very awkward for you,” she said. “What a laugh +they will all have over it this evening! Delicious!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Poppit’s face suddenly took on an expression of the tenderest +solicitude.</p> + +<p>“I hope, Miss Mapp, you didn’t jar yourself when you sat +down in the road just now,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Not at all, thank you so much,” said Miss Mapp, hearing her +heart beat in her throat… If she had had a naval fifteen-inch gun +handy, and had known how to fire it, she would, with a sense of duty +accomplished, have discharged it point-blank at the Order of the Member +of the British Empire, and at anybody else who might be within +range…</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Sunday, of course, with all the opportunities of that day, still +remained, and the seats of the auxiliary choir, which were +advantageously situated, had never been so full, but as it was all no +use, the Major and Captain Puffin left during the sermon to catch the +12.20 tram out to the links. On this delightful day it was but natural +that the pleasant walk there across the marsh was very popular,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +and golfers that afternoon had a very trying and nervous time, for the +ladies of Tilling kept bobbing up from behind sand-dunes and bunkers, +as, regardless of the players, they executed swift flank marches in all +directions. Miss Mapp returned exhausted about tea-time to hear from +Withers that the Prince had spent an hour or more rambling about the +town, and had stopped quite five minutes at the corner by the +garden-room. He had actually sat down on Miss Mapp’s steps and +smoked a cigarette. She wondered if the end of the cigarette was there +still: it was hateful to have cigarette-ends defiling the steps to her +front-door, and often before now, when sketchers were numerous, she had +sent her housemaid out to remove these untidy relics. She searched for +it, but was obliged to come to the reluctant conclusion that there was +nothing to remove…</p> + +<hr /><h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p>Diva was sitting at the open drawing-room window of her house in the +High Street, cutting with a pair of sharp nail scissors into the old +chintz curtains which her maid had told her no longer “paid for +the mending.” So, since they refused to pay for their mending any +more, she was preparing to make them pay, pretty smartly too, in other +ways. The pattern was of little bunches of pink roses peeping out +through trellis work, and it was these which she had just begun to cut +out. Though Tilling was noted for the ingenuity with which its more +fashionable ladies devised novel and quaint effects in their dress in an +economical manner, Diva felt sure, ransack her memory though she might, +that nobody had thought of <i>this</i> before.</p> + +<p>The hot weather had continued late into September and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +showed no signs of breaking yet, and it would be agreeable to her and +acutely painful to others that just at the end of the summer she should +appear in a perfectly new costume, before the days of jumpers and heavy +skirts and large woollen scarves came in. She was preparing, therefore, +to take the light white jacket which she wore over her blouse, and cover +the broad collar and cuffs of it with these pretty roses. The belt of +the skirt would be similarly decorated, and so would the edge of it, if +there were enough clean ones. The jacket and skirt had already gone to +the dyer’s, and would be back in a day or two, white no longer, +but of a rich purple hue, and by that time she would have hundreds of +these little pink roses ready to be tacked on. Perhaps a piece of the +chintz, trellis and all, could be sewn over the belt, but she was +determined to have single little bunches of roses peppered all over the +collar and cuffs of the jacket and, if possible, round the edge of the +skirt. She had already tried the effect, and was of the opinion that +nobody could possibly guess what the origin of these roses was. When +carefully sewn on they looked as if they were a design in the stuff.</p> + +<p>She let the circumcised roses fall on to the window-seat, and from time +to time, when they grew numerous, swept them into a cardboard box. +Though she worked with zealous diligence, she had an eye to the +movements in the street outside, for it was shopping-hour, and there +were many observations to be made. She had not anything like Miss +Mapp’s genius for conjecture, but her memory was appallingly good, +and this was the third morning running on which Elizabeth had gone into +the grocer’s. It was odd to go to your grocer’s every day +like that; groceries twice a week was sufficient for most people. From +here on the floor above the street she could easily<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +look into Elizabeth’s basket, and she certainly was carrying +nothing away with her from the grocer’s, for the only thing there +was a small bottle done up in white paper with sealing wax, which, Diva +had no need to be told, certainly came from the chemist’s, and was +no doubt connected with too many plums.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp crossed the street to the pavement below Diva’s house, +and precisely as she reached it, Diva’s maid opened the door into +the drawing-room, bringing in the second post, or rather not bringing in +the second post, but the announcement that there wasn’t any second +post. This opening of the door caused a draught, and the bunches of +roses which littered the window-seat rose brightly in the air. Diva +managed to beat most of them down again, but two fluttered out of the +window. Precisely then, and at no other time, Miss Mapp looked up, and +one settled on her face, the other fell into her basket. Her trained +faculties were all on the alert, and she thrust them both inside her +glove for future consideration, without stopping to examine them just +then. She only knew that they were little pink roses, and that they had +fluttered out of Diva’s window…</p> + +<p>She paused on the pavement, and remembered that Diva had not yet +expressed regret about the worsted, and that she still +“popped” as much as ever. Thus Diva deserved a punishment of +some sort, and happily, at that very moment she thought of a subject on +which she might be able to make her uncomfortable. The street was full, +and it would be pretty to call up to her, instead of ringing her bell, +in order to save trouble to poor overworked Janet. (Diva only kept two +servants, though of course poverty was no crime.)</p> + +<p>“Diva darling!” she cooed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +Diva’s head looked out like a cuckoo in a clock preparing to chime +the hour.</p> + +<p>“Hullo!” she said. “Want me?”</p> + +<p>“May I pop up for a moment, dear?” said Miss Mapp. +“That’s to say if you’re not very busy.”</p> + +<p>“Pop away,” said Diva. She was quite aware that Miss Mapp +said “pop” in crude inverted commas, so to speak, for +purposes of mockery, and so she said it herself more than ever. +“I’ll tell my maid to pop down and open the door.”</p> + +<p>While this was being done, Diva bundled her chintz curtains together and +stored them and the roses she had cut out into her work-cupboard, for +secrecy was an essential to the construction of these decorations. But +in order to appear naturally employed, she pulled out the woollen scarf +she was knitting for the autumn and winter, forgetting for the moment +that the rose-madder stripe at the end on which she was now engaged was +made of that fatal worsted which Miss Mapp considered to have been +feloniously appropriated. That was the sort of thing Miss Mapp never +forgot. Even among her sweet flowers. Her eye fell on it the moment she +entered the room, and she tucked the two chintz roses more securely into +her glove.</p> + +<p>“I thought I would just pop across from the grocer’s,” +she said. “What a pretty scarf, dear! That’s a lovely shade +of rose-madder. Where can I have seen something like it before?”</p> + +<p>This was clearly ironical, and had best be answered by irony. Diva was +no coward.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t say, I’m sure,” she said.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp appeared to recollect, and smiled as far back as her +wisdom-teeth. (Diva couldn’t do that.)</p> + +<p>“I have it,” she said. “It was the wool I ordered +at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +Heynes’s, and then he sold it you, and I couldn’t get any +more.”</p> + +<p>“So it was,” said Diva. “Upset you a bit. There was +the wool in the shop. I bought it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear; I see you did. But that wasn’t what I popped in +about. This coal-strike, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Got a cellar full,” said Diva.</p> + +<p>“Diva, you’ve not been hoarding, have you?” asked Miss +Mapp with great anxiety. “They can take away every atom of coal +you’ve got, if so, and fine you I don’t know what for every +hundredweight of it.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh!” said Diva, rather forcing the indifference of this +rude interjection.</p> + +<p>“Yes, love, pooh by all means, if you like poohing!” said +Miss Mapp. “But I should have felt very unfriendly if one morning +I found you were fined—found you were fined—quite a play +upon words—and I hadn’t warned you.”</p> + +<p>Diva felt a little less poohish.</p> + +<p>“But how much do they allow you to have?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, quite a little: enough to go on with. But I daresay they +won’t discover you. I just took the trouble to come and warn +you.”</p> + +<p>Diva did remember something about hoarding; there had surely been +dreadful exposures of prudent housekeepers in the papers which were very +uncomfortable reading.</p> + +<p>“But all these orders were only for the period of the war,” +she said.</p> + +<p>“No doubt you’re right, dear,” said Miss Mapp +brightly. “I’m sure I hope you are. Only if the coal strike +comes on, I think you’ll find that the regulations against +hoarding are quite as severe as they ever were. Food hoarding, too. +Twemlow—such a civil man—tells me that he thinks we shall +have plenty of food, or anyhow sufficient for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +everybody for quite a long time, provided that there’s no +hoarding. Not been hoarding food, too, dear Diva? You naughty thing: I +believe that great cupboard is full of sardines and biscuits and +bovril.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing of the kind,” said Diva indignantly. “You +shall see for yourself”—and then she suddenly remembered +that the cupboard was full of chintz curtains and little bunches of pink +roses, neatly cut out of them, and a pair of nail scissors.</p> + +<p>There was a perfectly perceptible pause, during which Miss Mapp noticed +that there were no curtains over the window. There certainly used to be, +and they matched with the chintz cover of the window seat, which was +decorated with little bunches of pink roses peeping through trellis. +This was in the nature of a bonus: she had not up till then connected +the chintz curtains with the little things that had fluttered down upon +her and were now safe in her glove; her only real object in this call +had been to instil a general uneasiness into Diva’s mind about the +coal strike and the danger of being well provided with fuel. That she +humbly hoped that she had accomplished. She got up.</p> + +<p>“Must be going,” she said. “Such a lovely little chat! +But what has happened to your pretty curtains?”</p> + +<p>“Gone to the wash,” said Diva firmly.</p> + +<p>“Liar,” thought Miss Mapp, as she tripped downstairs. +“Diva would have sent the cover of the window-seat too, if that +was the case. Liar,” she thought again as she kissed her hand to +Diva, who was looking gloomily out of the window.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>As soon as Miss Mapp had gained her garden-room, she examined the +mysterious treasures in her left-hand glove.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +Without the smallest doubt Diva had taken down her curtains (and high +time too, for they were sadly shabby), and was cutting the roses out of +them. But what on earth was she doing that for? For what garish purpose +could she want to use bunches of roses cut out of chintz curtains?</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp had put the two specimens of which she had providentially +become possessed in her lap, and they looked very pretty against the +navy-blue of her skirt. Diva was very ingenious: she used up all sorts +of odds and ends in a way that did credit to her undoubtedly +parsimonious qualities. She could trim a hat with a tooth-brush and a +banana in such a way that it looked quite Parisian till you firmly +analysed its component parts, and most of her ingenuity was devoted to +dress: the more was the pity that she had such a roundabout figure that +her waistband always reminded you of the equator…</p> + +<p>“Eureka!” said Miss Mapp aloud, and, though the telephone +bell was ringing, and the postulant might be one of the servants’ +friends ringing them up at an hour when their mistress was usually in +the High Street, she glided swiftly to the large cupboard underneath the +stairs which was full of the things which no right-minded person could +bear to throw away: broken basket-chairs, pieces of brown paper, +cardboard boxes without lids, and cardboard lids without boxes, old bags +with holes in them, keys without locks and locks without keys and worn +chintz covers. There was one—it had once adorned the sofa in the +garden-room—covered with red poppies (very easy to cut out), and +Miss Mapp dragged it dustily from its corner, setting in motion a +perfect cascade of cardboard lids and some door-handles.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +Withers had answered the telephone, and came to announce that Twemlow +the grocer regretted he had only two large tins of corned beef, +but——</p> + +<p>“Then say I will have the tongue as well, Withers,” said +Miss Mapp. “Just a tongue—and then I shall want you and Mary +to do some cutting out for me.”</p> + +<p>The three went to work with feverish energy, for Diva had got a start, +and by four o’clock that afternoon there were enough poppies cut +out to furnish, when in seed, a whole street of opium dens. The dress +selected for decoration was, apart from a few mildew-spots, the colour +of ripe corn, which was superbly appropriate for September. +“Poppies in the corn,” said Miss Mapp over and over to +herself, remembering some sweet verses she had once read by Bernard Shaw +or Clement Shorter or somebody like that about a garden of sleep +somewhere in Norfolk…</p> + +<p>“No one can work as neatly as you, Withers,” she said gaily, +“and I shall ask you to do the most difficult part. I want you to +sew my lovely poppies over the collar and facings of the jacket, just +spacing them a little and making a dainty irregularity. And then +Mary—won’t you, Mary?—will do the same with the +waistband while I put a border of them round the skirt, and my dear old +dress will look quite new and lovely. I shall be at home to nobody, +Withers, this afternoon, even if the Prince of Wales came and sat on my +doorstep again. We’ll all work together in the garden, shall we, +and you and Mary must scold me if you think I’m not working hard +enough. It will be delicious in the garden.”</p> + +<p>Thanks to this pleasant plan, there was not much opportunity for Withers +and Mary to be idle…</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Just about the time that this harmonious party began<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +their work, a far from harmonious couple were being just as industrious +in the grand spacious bunker in front of the tee to the last hole on the +golf links. It was a beautiful bunker, consisting of a great slope of +loose, steep sand against the face of the hill, and solidly shored up +with timber. The Navy had been in better form to-day, and after a +decisive victory over the Army in the morning and an indemnity of +half-a-crown, its match in the afternoon, with just the last hole to +play, was all square. So Captain Puffin, having the honour, hit a low, +nervous drive that tapped loudly at the timbered wall of the bunker, and +cuddled down below it, well protected from any future assault.</p> + +<p>“Phew! That about settles it,” said Major Flint +boisterously. “Bad place to top a ball! Give me the hole?”</p> + +<p>This insolent question needed no answer, and Major Flint drove, skying +the ball to a prodigious height. But it had to come to earth sometime, +and it fell like Lucifer, son of the morning, in the middle of the same +bunker… So the Army played three more, and, sweating profusely, +got out. Then it was the Navy’s turn, and the Navy had to lie on +its keel above the boards of the bunker, in order to reach its ball at +all, and missed it twice.</p> + +<p>“Better give it up, old chap,” said Major Flint. +“Unplayable.”</p> + +<p>“Then see me play it,” said Captain Puffin, with a chewing +motion of his jaws.</p> + +<p>“We shall miss the tram,” said the Major, and, with the +intention of giving annoyance, he sat down in the bunker with his back +to Captain Puffin, and lit a cigarette. At his third attempt nothing +happened; at the fourth the ball flew against the boards, rebounded +briskly again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +into the bunker, trickled down the steep, sandy slope and hit the +Major’s boot.</p> + +<p>“Hit you, I think,” said Captain Puffin. “Ha! So +it’s my hole, Major!”</p> + +<p>Major Flint had a short fit of aphasia. He opened and shut his mouth and +foamed. Then he took a half-crown from his pocket.</p> + +<p>“Give that to the Captain,” he said to his caddie, and +without looking round, walked away in the direction of the tram. He had +not gone a hundred yards when the whistle sounded, and it puffed away +homewards with ever-increasing velocity.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Weak and trembling from passion, Major Flint found that after a few +tottering steps in the direction of Tilling he would be totally unable +to get there unless fortified by some strong stimulant, and turned back +to the Club-house to obtain it. He always went dead-lame when beaten at +golf, while Captain Puffin was lame in any circumstances, and the two, +no longer on speaking terms, hobbled into the Club-house, one after the +other, each unconscious of the other’s presence. Summoning his +last remaining strength Major Flint roared for whisky, and was told +that, according to regulation, he could not be served until six. There +was lemonade and stone ginger-beer… You might as well have +offered a man-eating tiger bread and milk. Even the threat that he would +instantly resign his membership unless provided with drink produced no +effect on a polite steward, and he sat down to recover as best he might +with an old volume of <i>Punch</i>. This seemed to do him little good. His +forced abstemiousness was rendered the more intolerable by the fact that +Captain Puffin, hobbling in immediately afterwards, fetched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +from his locker a large flask full of the required elixir, and proceeded +to mix himself a long, strong tumblerful. After the Major’s +rudeness in the matter of the half-crown, it was impossible for any +sailor of spirit to take the first step towards reconciliation.</p> + +<p>Thirst is a great leveller. By the time the refreshed Puffin had +penetrated half-way down his glass, the Major found it impossible to be +proud and proper any longer. He hated saying he was sorry (no man more) +and wouldn’t have been sorry if he had been able to get a drink. +He twirled his moustache a great many times and cleared his +throat—it wanted more than that to clear it—and capitulated.</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, Puffin, I’m ashamed of myself +for—ha!—for not taking my defeat better,” he said. +“A man’s no business to let a game ruffle him.”</p> + +<p>Puffin gave his alto cackling laugh.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right, Major,” he said. “I know +it’s awfully hard to lose like a gentleman.”</p> + +<p>He let this sink in, then added:</p> + +<p>“Have a drink, old chap?”</p> + +<p>Major Flint flew to his feet.</p> + +<p>“Well, thank ye, thank ye,” he said. “Now +where’s that soda water you offered me just now?” he shouted +to the steward.</p> + +<p>The speed and completeness of the reconciliation was in no way +remarkable, for when two men quarrel whenever they meet, it follows that +they make it up again with corresponding frequency, else there could be +no fresh quarrels at all. This one had been a shade more acute than +most, and the drop into amity again was a shade more precipitous.</p> + +<p>Major Flint in his eagerness had put most of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +moustache into the life-giving tumbler, and dried it on his +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>“After all, it was a most amusing incident,” he said. +“There was I with my back turned, waiting for you to give it up, +when your bl—wretched little ball hit my foot. I must remember +that. I’ll serve you with the same spoon some day, at least I +would if I thought it sportsmanlike. Well, well, enough said. +Astonishing good whisky, that of yours.”</p> + +<p>Captain Puffin helped himself to rather more than half of what now +remained in the flask.</p> + +<p>“Help yourself, Major,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Well, thank ye, I don’t mind if I do,” he said, +reversing the flask over the tumbler. “There’s a good tramp +in front of us now that the last tram has gone. Tram and tramp! Upon my +word, I’ve half a mind to telephone for a taxi.”</p> + +<p>This, of course, was a direct hint. Puffin ought clearly to pay for a +taxi, having won two half-crowns to-day. This casual drink did not +constitute the usual drink stood by the winner, and paid for with cash +over the counter. A drink (or two) from a flask was not the same +thing… Puffin naturally saw it in another light. He had paid for +the whisky which Major Flint had drunk (or owed for it) in his +wine-merchant’s bill. That was money just as much as a florin +pushed across the counter. But he was so excessively pleased with +himself over the adroitness with which he had claimed the last hole, +that he quite overstepped the bounds of his habitual parsimony.</p> + +<p>“Well, you trot along to the telephone and order a taxi,” he +said, “and I’ll pay for it.”</p> + +<p>“Done with you,” said the other.</p> + +<p>Their comradeship was now on its most felicitous level<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +again, and they sat on the bench outside the club-house till the arrival +of their unusual conveyance.</p> + +<p>“Lunching at the Poppits’ to-morrow?” asked Major +Flint.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Meet you there? Good. Bridge afterwards, suppose.”</p> + +<p>“Sure to be. Wish there was a chance of more red-currant fool. +That was a decent tipple, all but the red-currants. If I had had all the +old brandy that was served for my ration in one glass, and all the +champagne in another, I should have been better content.”</p> + +<p>Captain Puffin was a great cynic in his own misogynistic way.</p> + +<p>“Camouflage for the fair sex,” he said. “A woman will +lick up half a bottle of brandy if it’s called plum-pudding, and +ask for more, whereas if you offered her a small brandy and soda, she +would think you were insulting her.”</p> + +<p>“Bless them, the funny little fairies,” said the Major.</p> + +<p>“Well, what I tell you is true, Major,” said Puffin. +“There’s old Mapp. Teetotaller she calls herself, but she +played a bo’sun’s part in that red-currant fool. Bit rosy, I +thought her, as we escorted her home.”</p> + +<p>“So she was,” said the Major. “So she was. Said +good-bye to us on her doorstep as if she thought she was a perfect Venus +Ana—Ana something.”</p> + +<p>“Anno Domini,” giggled Puffin.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, we all get long in the tooth in time,” said +Major Flint charitably. “Fine figure of a woman, though.”</p> + +<p>“Eh?” said Puffin archly.</p> + +<p>“Now none of your sailor-talk ashore, Captain,” said the +Major, in high good humour. “I’m not a marrying man any more +than you are. Better if I had been perhaps,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +more years ago than I care to think about. Dear me, my wound’s +going to trouble me to-night.”</p> + +<p>“What do you do for it, Major?” asked Puffin.</p> + +<p>“Do for it? Think of old times a bit over my diaries.”</p> + +<p>“Going to let the world have a look at them some day?” asked +Puffin.</p> + +<p>“No, sir, I am not,” said Major Flint. “Perhaps a +hundred years hence—the date I have named in my will for their +publication—someone may think them not so uninteresting. But all +this toasting and buttering and grilling and frying your friends, and +serving them up hot for all the old cats at a tea-table to mew +over—Pah!”</p> + +<p>Puffin was silent a moment in appreciation of these noble sentiments.</p> + +<p>“But you put in a lot of work over them,” he said at length. +“Often when I’m going up to bed, I see the light still +burning in your sitting-room window.”</p> + +<p>“And if it comes to that,” rejoined the Major, +“I’m sure I’ve often dozed off when I’m in bed +and woken again, and pulled up my blind, and what not, and there’s +your light still burning. Powerful long roads those old Romans must have +made, Captain.”</p> + +<p>The ice was not broken, but it was cracking in all directions under this +unexampled thaw. The two had clearly indicated a mutual suspicion of +each other’s industrious habits after dinner… They had +never got quite so far as this before: some quarrel had congealed the +surface again. But now, with a desperate disagreement just behind them, +and the unusual luxury of a taxi just in front, the vernal airs +continued blowing in the most springlike manner.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s true enough,” said Puffin. “Long +roads they were, and dry roads at that, and if I stuck to them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +from after my supper every evening till midnight or more, should be +smothered in dust.”</p> + +<p>“Unless you washed the dust down just once in a while,” said +Major Flint.</p> + +<p>“Just so. Brain-work’s an exhausting process; requires a +little stimulant now and again,” said Puffin. “I sit in my +chair, you understand, and perhaps doze for a bit after my supper, and +then I’ll get my maps out, and have them handy beside me. And +then, if there’s something interesting the evening paper, perhaps +I’ll have a look at it, and bless me, if by that time it +isn’t already half-past ten or eleven, and it seems useless to +tackle archæology then. And I just—just while away the time +till I’m sleepy. But there seems to be a sort of legend among the +ladies here, that I’m a great student of local topography and +Roman roads, and all sorts of truck, and I find it better to leave it at +that. Tiresome to go into long explanations. In fact,” added +Puffin in a burst of confidence, “the study I’ve done on +Roman roads these last six months wouldn’t cover a threepenny +piece.”</p> + +<p>Major Flint gave a loud, choking guffaw and beat his fat leg.</p> + +<p>“Well, if that’s not the best joke I’ve heard for many +a long day,” he said. “There I’ve been in the house +opposite you these last two years, seeing your light burning late night +after night, and thinking to myself, ‘There’s my friend +Puffin still at it! Fine thing to be an enthusiastic archæologist +like that. That makes short work of a lonely evening for him if +he’s so buried in his books or his maps—Mapps, ha! +ha!—that he doesn’t seem to notice whether it’s twelve +o’clock or one or two, maybe!’ And all the time you’ve +been sitting snoozing and boozing in your chair, with your glass handy +to wash the dust down.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +Puffin added his falsetto cackle to this merriment.</p> + +<p>“And, often I’ve thought to myself,” he said, +“‘There’s my friend the Major in his study opposite, +with all his diaries round him, making a note here, and copying an +extract there, and conferring with the Viceroy one day, and reprimanding +the Maharajah of Bom-be-boo another. He’s spending the evening on +India’s coral strand, he is, having tiffin and shooting tigers and +Gawd knows what—’”</p> + +<p>The Major’s laughter boomed out again.</p> + +<p>“And I never kept a diary in my life!” he cried. “Why +there’s enough cream in this situation to make a dishful of +meringues. You and I, you know, the students of Tilling! The +serious-minded students who do a hard day’s work when all the +pretty ladies have gone to bed. Often and often has old—I mean has +that fine woman, Miss Mapp, told me that I work too hard at night! +Recommended me to get earlier to bed, and do my work between six and +eight in the morning! Six and eight in the morning! That’s a queer +time of day to recommend an old campaigner to be awake at! Often +she’s talked to you, too, I bet my hat, about sitting up late and +exhausting the nervous faculties.”</p> + +<p>Major Flint choked and laughed and inhaled tobacco smoke till he got +purple in the face.</p> + +<p>“And you sitting up one side of the street,” he gasped, +“pretending to be interested in Roman roads, and me on the other +pulling a long face over my diaries, and neither of us with a Roman road +or a diary to our names. Let’s have an end to such unsociable +arrangements, old friend; you bring your Roman roads and the bottle to +lay the dust over to me one night, and I’ll bring my diaries and +my peg over to you the next. Never drink alone—one of my maxims in +life—if you can find someone to drink with you. And<span class='pagenum'><a +name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> there were you within a few yards of me +all the time sitting by your old solitary self, and there was I sitting +by my old solitary self, and we each thought the other a serious-minded +old buffer, busy on his life-work. I’m blessed if I heard of two +such pompous old frauds as you and I, Captain! What a sight of hypocrisy +there is in the world, to be sure! No offence—mind: I’m as +bad as you, and you’re as bad as me, and we’re both as bad +as each other. But no more solitary confinement of an evening for +Benjamin Flint, as long as you’re agreeable.”</p> + +<p>The advent of the taxi was announced, and arm in arm they limped down +the steep path together to the road. A little way off to the left was +the great bunker which, primarily, was the cause of their present amity. +As they drove by it, the Major waggled his red hand at it.</p> + +<p>“Au reservoir,” he said. “Back again soon!”</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>It was late that night when Miss Mapp felt that she was physically +incapable of tacking on a single poppy more to the edge of her skirt, +and went to the window of the garden-room where she had been working, to +close it. She glanced up at the top story of her own house, and saw that +the lights in the servants’ rooms were out: she glanced to the +right and concluded that her gardener had gone to bed: finally, she +glanced down the street and saw with a pang of pleasure that the windows +of the Major’s house showed no sign of midnight labour. This was +intensely gratifying: it indicated that her influence was at work in +him, for in response to her wish, so often and so tactfully urged on +him, that he would go to bed earlier and not work so hard at night, here +was the darkened window, and she dismissed as unworthy the suspicion +which had been aroused by the red-currant fool. The window of his +bedroom was dark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +too: he must have already put out his light, and Miss Mapp made haste +over her little tidyings so that she might not be found a transgressor +to her own precepts. But there was a light in Captain Puffin’s +house: he had a less impressionable nature than the Major and was in so +many ways far inferior. And did he really find Roman roads so +wonderfully exhilarating? Miss Mapp sincerely hoped that he did, and +that it was nothing else of less pure and innocent allurement that kept +him up… As she closed the window very gently, it did just seem to +her that there had been something equally baffling in Major +Flint’s egoistical vigils over his diaries; that she had wondered +whether there was not something else (she had hardly formulated what) +which kept his lights burning so late. But she would now cross +him—dear man—and his late habits, out of the list of riddles +about Tilling which awaited solution. Whatever it had been (diaries or +what not) that used to keep him up, he had broken the habit now, whereas +Captain Puffin had not. She took her poppy-bordered skirt over her arm, +and smiled her thankful way to bed. She could allow herself to wonder +with a little more definiteness, now that the Major’s lights were +out and he was abed, what it could be which rendered Captain Puffin so +oblivious to the passage of time, when he was investigating Roman roads. +How glad she was that the Major was not with him… “Benjamin +Flint!” she said to herself as, having put her window open, she +trod softly (so as not to disturb the slumberer next door) across her +room on her fat white feet to her big white bed. “Good-night, +Major Benjy,” she whispered, as she put her light out.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>It was not to be supposed that Diva would act on Miss Mapp’s +alarming hints that morning as to the fate of coal-hoarders,<span class='pagenum'><a +name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> and give, say, a ton of fuel to the +hospital at once, in lieu of her usual smaller Christmas contribution, +without making further inquiries in the proper quarters as to the legal +liabilities of having, so she ascertained, three tons in her cellar, and +as soon as her visitor had left her this morning, she popped out to see +Mr. Wootten, her coal-merchant. She returned in a state of fury, for +there were no regulations whatever in existence with regard to the +amount of coal that any householder might choose to amass, and Mr. +Wootten complimented her on her prudence in having got in a reasonable +supply, for he thought it quite probable that, if the coal strike took +place, there would be some difficulty in month’s time from now in +replenishing cellars. “But we’ve had a good supply all the +summer,” added agreeable Mr. Wootten, “and all my customers +have got their cellars well stocked.”</p> + +<p>Diva rapidly recollected that the perfidious Elizabeth was among them.</p> + +<p>“O but, Mr. Wootten,” she said, “Miss Mapp +popped—dropped in to see me just now. Told me she had hardly got +any.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wootten turned up his ledger. It was not etiquette to disclose the +affairs of one client to another, but if there was a cantankerous +customer, one who was never satisfied with prices and quality, that +client was Miss Mapp… He allowed a broad grin to overspread his +agreeable face.</p> + +<p>“Well, ma’am, if in a month’s time I’m short of +coal, there are friends of yours in Tilling who can let you have +plenty,” he permitted himself to say…</p> + +<p>It was idle to attempt to cut out bunches of roses while her hand was so +feverish, and she trundled up and down the High Street to cool off. Had +she not been so prudent as to make inquiries, as likely as not she would +have sent a ton<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +of coal that very day to the hospital, so strongly had Elizabeth’s +perfidious warning inflamed her imagination as to the fate of hoarders, +and all the time Elizabeth’s own cellars were glutted, though she +had asserted that she was almost fuelless. Why, she must have in her +possession more coal than Diva herself, since Mr. Wootten had clearly +implied that it was Elizabeth who could be borrowed from! And all +because of a wretched piece of rose-madder worsted…</p> + +<p>By degrees she calmed down, for it was no use attempting to plan revenge +with a brain at fever-heat. She must be calm and icily ingenious. As the +cooling-process went on she began to wonder whether it was worsted alone +that had prompted her friend’s diabolical suggestion. It seemed +more likely that another motive (one strangely Elizabethan) was the +cause of it. Elizabeth might be taken for certain as being a +coal-hoarder herself, and it was ever so like her to divert suspicion by +pretending her cellar was next to empty. She had been equally severe on +any who might happen to be hoarding food, in case transport was +disarranged and supplies fell short, and with a sudden flare of +authentic intuition, Diva’s mind blazed with the conjecture that +Elizabeth was hoarding food as well.</p> + +<p>Luck ever attends the bold and constructive thinker: the apple, for +instance, fell from the tree precisely when Newton’s mind was +groping after the law of gravity, and as Diva stepped into her +grocer’s to begin her morning’s shopping (for she had been +occupied with roses ever since breakfast) the attendant was at the +telephone at the back of the shop. He spoke in a lucid telephone-voice.</p> + +<p>“We’ve only two of the big tins of corned beef,” he +said; and there was a pause, during which, to a psychic, Diva’s +ears might have seemed to grow as pointed with attention<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +as a satyr’s. But she could only hear little hollow quacks from +the other end.</p> + +<p>“Tongue as well. Very good. I’ll send them up at +once,” he added, and came forward into the shop.</p> + +<p>“Good morning,” said Diva. Her voice was tremulous with +anxiety and investigation. “Got any big tins of corned beef? The +ones that contain six pounds.”</p> + +<p>“Very sorry, ma’am. We’ve only got two, and +they’ve just been ordered.”</p> + +<p>“A small pot of ginger then, please,” said Diva recklessly. +“Will you send it round immediately?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma’am. The boy’s just going out.”</p> + +<p>That was luck. Diva hurried into the street, and was absorbed by the +headlines of the news outside the stationer’s. This was a +favourite place for observation, for you appeared to be quite taken up +by the topics of the day, and kept an oblique eye on the true object of +your scrutiny… She had not got to wait long, for almost +immediately the grocer’s boy came out of the shop with a heavy +basket on his arm, delivered the small pot of ginger at her own door, +and proceeded along the street. He was, unfortunately, a popular and a +conversational youth, who had a great deal to say to his friends, and +the period of waiting to see if he would turn up the steep street that +led to Miss Mapp’s house was very protracted. At the corner he +deliberately put down the basket altogether and lit a cigarette, and +never had Diva so acutely deplored the spread of the tobacco-habit among +the juvenile population.</p> + +<p>Having refreshed himself he turned up the steep street.</p> + +<p>He passed the fishmonger’s and the fruiterer’s; he did not +take the turn down to the dentist’s and Mr. Wyse’s. He had +no errand to the Major’s house or to the Captain’s. Then, oh +then, he rang the bell at Miss Mapp’s back door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> All the time +Diva had been following him, keeping her head well down so as to avert +the possibility of observation from the window of the garden-room, and +walking so slowly that the motion of her feet seemed not circular at +all… Then the bell was answered, and he delivered into +Withers’ hands one, two tins of corned beef and a round ox-tongue. +He put the basket on his head and came down the street again, shrilly +whistling. If Diva had had any reasonably small change in her pocket, +she would assuredly have given him some small share in it. Lacking this, +she trundled home with all speed, and began cutting out roses with swift +and certain strokes of the nail-scissors.</p> + +<p>Now she had <ins class='corr' title="The original read 'aleady'.">already</ins> +noticed that Elizabeth had paid visits to the grocer’s on three +consecutive days (three consecutive days: think of it!), and given that +her purchases on other occasions had been on the same substantial scale +as to-day, it became a matter of thrilling interest as to where she kept +these stores. She could not keep them in the coal cellar, for that was +already bursting with coal, and Diva, who had assisted her (the base +one) in making a prodigious quantity of jam that year from her +well-stocked garden, was aware that the kitchen cupboards were like to +be as replete as the coal-cellar, before those hoardings of dead oxen +began. Then there was the big cupboard under the stairs, but that could +scarcely be the site of this prodigious cache, for it was full of +cardboard and curtains and carpets and all the rubbishy accumulations +which Elizabeth could not bear to part with. Then she had large +cupboards in her bedroom and spare rooms full to overflowing of mouldy +clothes, but there was positively not another cupboard in the house that +Diva knew of, and she crushed her temples in her hands in the attempt to +locate the hiding-place of the hoard.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +Diva suddenly jumped up with a happy squeal of discovery, and in her +excitement snapped her scissors with so random a stroke that she +completely cut in half the bunch of roses that she was engaged on. There +was another cupboard, the best and biggest of all and the most secret +and the most discreet. It lay embedded in the wall of the garden-room, +cloaked and concealed behind the shelves of a false book-case, which +contained no more than the simulacra of books, just books with titles +that had never yet appeared on any honest book. There were twelve +volumes of “The Beauties of Nature,” a shelf full of +“Elegant Extracts,” there were volumes simply called +“Poems,” there were “Commentaries,” there were +“Travels” and “Astronomy” and the lowest and +tallest shelf was full of “Music.” A card-table habitually +stood in front of this false repository of learning, and it was only last +week that Diva, prying casually round the room while Elizabeth had gone +to take off her gardening-gloves, had noticed a modest catch let into +the wood-work. Without doubt, then, the book-case was the door of the +cupboard, and with a stroke of intuition, too sure to be called a guess, +Diva was aware that she had correctly inferred the storage of this +nefarious hoard. It only remained to verify her conclusion, and, if +possible, expose it with every circumstance of public ignominy. She was +in no hurry: she could bide her time, aware that, in all probability, +every day that passed would see an addition to its damning contents. +Some day, when she was playing bridge and the card-table had been moved +out, in some rubber when she herself was dummy and Elizabeth greedily +playing the hand, she would secretly and accidentally press the catch +which her acute vision had so providentially revealed to her…</p> + +<p>She attacked her chintz curtains again with her appetite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +for the pink roses agreeably whetted. Another hour’s work would +give her sufficient bunches for her purpose, and unless the dyer was as +perfidious as Elizabeth, her now purple jacket and skirt would arrive +that afternoon. Two days’ hard work would be sufficient for so +accomplished a needlewoman as herself to make these original +decorations.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, for Diva was never idle, and was chiefly occupied with +dress, she got out a certain American fashion paper. There was in it the +description of a tea-gown worn by Mrs. Titus W. Trout which she believed +was within her dressmaking capacity. She would attempt it, anyhow, and +if it proved to be beyond her, she could entrust the more difficult +parts to that little dressmaker whom Elizabeth employed, and who was +certainly very capable. But the costume was of so daring and splendid a +nature that she feared to take anyone into her confidence about it, lest +some hint or gossip—for Tilling was a gossipy place—might +leak out. Kingfisher blue! It made her mouth water to dwell on the +sumptuous syllables!</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Miss Mapp was so feverishly occupied all next morning with the +application of poppies to the corn-coloured skirt that she paid very +little attention to the opening gambits of the day, either as regards +the world in general, or, more particularly, Major Benjy. After his +early retirement last night he was probably up with the lark this +morning, and when between half-past ten and eleven his sonorous +“Qui-hi!” sounded through her open window, the shock she +experienced interrupted for a moment her floral industry. It was +certainly very odd that, having gone to bed at so respectable an hour +last night, he should be calling for his porridge only now, but with an +impulse of unusual optimism, she figured him as having been at work on +his diaries<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +before breakfast, and in that absorbing occupation having forgotten how +late it was growing. That, no doubt, was the explanation, though it +would be nice to know for certain, if the information positively forced +itself on her notice… As she worked, (framing her lips with +elaborate motions to the syllables) she dumbly practised the phrase +“Major Benjy.” Sometimes in moments of gallantry he called +her “Miss Elizabeth,” and she meant, when she had got +accustomed to it by practice, to say “Major Benjy” to him by +accident, and he would, no doubt, beg her to make a habit of that +friendly slip of the tongue… “Tongue” led to a new +train of thought, and presently she paused in her work, and pulling the +card-table away from the deceptive book-case, she pressed the concealed +catch of the door, and peeped in.</p> + +<p>There was still room for further small precautions against starvation +owing to the impending coal-strike, and she took stock of her +provisions. Even if the strike lasted quite a long time, there would now +be no immediate lack of the necessaries of life, for the cupboard +glistened with tinned meats, and the flour-merchant had sent a very +sensible sack. This with considerable exertion she transferred to a high +shelf in the cupboard, instead of allowing it to remain standing on the +floor, for Withers had informed her of an unpleasant rumour about a +mouse, which Mary had observed, lost in thought in front of the +cupboard. “So mousie shall only find tins on the floor now,” +thought Miss Mapp. “Mousie shall try his teeth on tins.” +… There was tea and coffee in abundance, jars of jam filled the +kitchen shelves, and if this morning she laid in a moderate supply of +dried fruits, there was no reason to face the future with anything but +fortitude. She would see about that now, for, busy though she was, she +could not miss the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +shopping-parade. Would Diva, she wondered, be at her window, snipping +roses out of chintz curtains? The careful, thrifty soul. Perhaps this +time to-morrow, Diva, looking out of her window, would see that somebody +else had been quicker about being thrifty than she. That would be fun!</p> + +<p>The Major’s dining-room window was open, and as Miss Mapp passed +it, she could not help hearing loud, angry remarks about eggs coming +from inside. That made it clear that he was still at breakfast, and that +if he had been working at his diaries in the fresh morning hours and +forgetting the time, early rising, in spite of his early retirement last +night, could not be supposed to suit his Oriental temper. But a change +of habits was invariably known to be upsetting, and Miss Mapp was +hopeful that in a day or two he would feel quite a different man. +Further down the street was quaint Irene lounging at the door of her new +studio (a converted coach-house), smoking a cigarette and dressed like a +jockey.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Mapp,” she said. “Come and have a look round +my new studio. You haven’t seen it yet. I shall give a +house-warming next week. Bridge-party!”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp tried to steel herself for the hundredth time to appear quite +unconscious that she was being addressed when Irene said +“Mapp” in that odious manner. But she never could summon up +sufficient nerve to be rude to so awful a mimic…</p> + +<p>“Good morning, dear one,” she said sycophantically. +“Shall I peep in for a moment?”</p> + +<p>The decoration of the studio was even more appalling than might have +been expected. There was a German stove in the corner made of pink +porcelain, the rafters and roof were painted scarlet, the walls were of +magenta<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +distemper and the floor was blue. In the corner was a very large +orange-coloured screen. The walls were hung with specimens of +Irene’s art, there was a stout female with no clothes on at all, +whom it was impossible not to recognize as being Lucy; there were +studies of fat legs and ample bosoms, and on the easel was a picture, +evidently in process of completion, which represented a man. From this +Miss Mapp instantly averted her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Eve,” said Irene, pointing to Lucy.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp naturally guessed that the gentleman who was almost in the +same costume was Adam, and turned completely away from him.</p> + +<p>“And what a lovely idea to have a blue floor, dear,” she +said. “How original you are. And that pretty scarlet ceiling. But +don’t you find when you’re painting that all these bright +colours disturb you?”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit: they stimulate your sense of colour.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp moved towards the screen.</p> + +<p>“What a delicious big screen,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but don’t go behind it, Mapp,” said Irene, +“or you’ll see my model undressing.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp retreated from it precipitately, as from a wasp’s nest, +and examined some of the studies on the wall, for it was more than +probable from the unfinished picture on the easel that Adam lurked +behind the delicious screen. Terrible though it all was, she was +conscious of an unbridled curiosity to know who Adam was. It was +dreadful to think that there could be any man in Tilling so depraved as +to stand to be looked at with so little on…</p> + +<p>Irene strolled round the walls with her.</p> + +<p>“Studies of Lucy,” she said.</p> + +<p>“I see, dear,” said Miss Mapp. “How clever! Legs and +things! But when you have your bridge-party,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +won’t you perhaps cover some of them up, or turn them to the wall? +We should all be looking at your pictures instead of attending to our +cards. And if you were thinking of asking the Padre, you +know…”</p> + +<p>They were approaching the corner of the room where the screen stood, +when a movement there as if Adam had hit it with his elbow made Miss +Mapp turn round. The screen fell flat on the ground and within a yard of +her stood Mr. Hopkins, the proprietor of the fish-shop just up the +street. Often and often had Miss Mapp had pleasant little conversations +with him, with a view to bringing down the price of flounders. He had +little bathing-drawers on…</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Hopkins, are you ready?” said Irene. “You know +Miss Mapp, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp had not imagined that Time and Eternity combined could hold so +embarrassing a moment. She did not know where to look, but wherever she +looked, it should not be at Hopkins. But (wherever she looked) she could +not be unaware that Hopkins raised his large bare arm and touched the +place where his cap would have been, if he had had one.</p> + +<p>“Good-morning, Hopkins,” she said. “Well, Irene +darling, I must be trotting, and leave you to your——” +she hardly knew what to call it—“to your work.”</p> + +<p>She tripped from the room, which seemed to be entirely full of unclothed +limbs, and redder than one of Mr. Hopkins’s boiled lobsters +hurried down the street. She felt that she could never face him again, +but would be obliged to go to the establishment in the High Street where +Irene dealt, when it was fish she wanted from a fish-shop… Her +head was in a whirl at the brazenness of mankind, especially womankind. +How had Irene started the overtures<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +that led to this? Had she just said to Hopkins one morning: “Will +you come to my studio and take off all your clothes?” If Irene had +not been such a wonderful mimic, she would certainly have felt it her +duty to go straight to the Padre, and, pulling down her veil, confide to +him the whole sad story. But as that was out of the question, she went +into Twenlow’s and ordered four pounds of dried apricots.</p> + +<hr /><h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p>The dyer, as Diva had feared, proved perfidious, and it was not till the +next morning that her maid brought her the parcel containing the coat +and skirt of the projected costume. Diva had already done her marketing, +so that she might have no other calls on her time to interfere with the +tacking on of the bunches of pink roses, and she hoped to have the dress +finished in time for Elizabeth’s afternoon bridge-party next day, +an invitation to which had just reached her. She had also settled to +have a cold lunch to-day, so that her cook as well as her parlourmaid +could devote themselves to the job.</p> + +<p>She herself had taken the jacket for decoration, and was just tacking +the first rose on to the collar, when she looked out of the window, and +what she saw caused her needle to fall from her nerveless hand. Tripping +along the opposite pavement was Elizabeth. She had on a dress, the +material of which, after a moment’s gaze, Diva identified: it was +that corn-coloured coat and skirt which she had worn so much last +spring. But the collar, the cuffs, the waistband and the hem of the +skirt were covered with staring red poppies. Next moment, she called to +remembrance the chintz that had once covered Elizabeth’s sofa in +the garden-room.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +Diva wasted no time, but rang the bell. She had to make certain.</p> + +<p>“Janet,” she said, “go straight out into the High +Street, and walk close behind Miss Mapp. Look very carefully at her +dress; see if the poppies on it are of chintz.”</p> + +<p>Janet’s face fell.</p> + +<p>“Why, ma’am, she’s never gone and——” +she began.</p> + +<p>“Quick!” said Diva in a strangled voice.</p> + +<p>Diva watched from her window. Janet went out, looked this way and that, +spied the quarry, and skimmed up the High Street on feet that twinkled +as fast as her mistress’s. She came back much out of breath with +speed and indignation.</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “They’re chintz +sure enough. Tacked on, too, just as you were meaning to do. Oh, +ma’am——”</p> + +<p>Janet quite appreciated the magnitude of the calamity and her voice +failed.</p> + +<p>“What are we to do, ma’am?” she added.</p> + +<p>Diva did not reply for a moment, but sat with eyes closed in profound +and concentrated thought. It required no reflection to decide how +impossible it was to appear herself to-morrow in a dress which seemed to +ape the costume which all Tilling had seen Elizabeth wearing to-day, and +at first it looked as if there was nothing to be done with all those +laboriously acquired bunches of rosebuds; for it was clearly out of the +question to use them as the decoration for any costume, and idle to +think of sewing them back into the snipped and gashed curtains. She +looked at the purple skirt and coat that hungered for their flowers, and +then she looked at Janet. Janet was a short, roundabout person; it was +ill-naturedly supposed that she had much the same figure as her +mistress…</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +Then the light broke, dazzling and diabolical, and Diva bounced to her +feet, blinded by its splendour.</p> + +<p>“My coat and skirt are yours, Janet,” she said. “Get +with the work both of you. Bustle. Cover it with roses. Have it finished +to-night. Wear it to-morrow. Wear it always.”</p> + +<p>She gave a loud cackle of laughter and threaded her needle.</p> + +<p>“Lor, ma’am!” said Janet, admiringly. +“That’s a teaser! And thank you, ma’am!”</p> + +<p>“It was roses, roses all the way.” Diva had quite +miscalculated the number required, and there were sufficient not only to +cover collar, cuffs and border of the skirt with them but to make +another line of them six inches above the hem. Original and gorgeous as +the dress would be, it was yet a sort of parody of Elizabeth’s +costume which was attracting so much interest and attention as she +popped in and out of shops to-day. To-morrow that would be worn by +Janet, and Janet (or Diva was much mistaken) should encourage her +friends to get permission to use up old bits of chintz. Very likely +chintz decoration would become quite a vogue among the servant maids of +Tilling… How Elizabeth had got hold of the idea mattered nothing, +but anyhow she would be surfeited with the idea before Diva had finished +with her. It was possible, of course (anything was possible), that it +had occurred to her independently, but Diva was loath to give so +innocent an ancestry to her adoption of it. It was far more sensible to +take for granted that she had got wind of Diva’s invention by some +odious, underhand piece of spying. What that might be must be +investigated (and probably determined) later, but at present the +business of Janet’s roses eclipsed every other interest.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp’s shopping that morning was unusually<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +prolonged, for it was important that every woman in Tilling should see +the poppies on the corn-coloured ground, and know that she had worn that +dress before Diva appeared in some mean adaptation of it. Though the +total cost of her entire purchases hardly amounted to a shilling, she +went in and out of an amazing number of shops, and made a prodigious +series of inquiries into the price of commodities that ranged from +motor-cars to sealing-wax, and often entered a shop twice because +(wreathed in smiling apologies for her stupidity) she had forgotten what +she was told the first time. By twelve o’clock she was satisfied +that practically everybody, with one exception, had seen her, and that +her costume had aroused a deep sense of jealousy and angry admiration. +So cunning was the handiwork of herself, Withers and Mary that she felt +fairly sure that no one had the slightest notion of how this decoration +of poppies was accomplished, for Evie had run round her in small +mouse-like circles, murmuring to herself: “Very effective idea; is +it woven into the cloth, Elizabeth? Dear me, I wonder where I could get +some like it,” and Mrs. Poppit had followed her all up the street, +with eyes glued to the hem of her skirt, and a completely puzzled face: +“but then,” so thought Elizabeth sweetly “even members +of the Order of the British Empire can’t have everything their own +way.” As for the Major, he had simply come to a dead stop when he +bounced out of his house as she passed, and said something very gallant +and appropriate. Even the absence of that one inhabitant of Tilling, +dear Diva, did not strike a jarring note in this pæan of triumph, +for Miss Mapp was quite satisfied that Diva was busy indoors, working +her fingers to the bone over the application of bunches of roses, and, +as usual, she was perfectly correct in her conjecture. But dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +Diva would have to see the new frock to-morrow afternoon, at the latest, +when she came to the bridge-party. Perhaps she would then, for the first +time, be wearing the roses herself, and everybody would very pleasantly +pity her. This was so rapturous a thought, that when Miss Mapp, after +her prolonged shopping and with her almost empty basket, passed Mr. +Hopkins standing outside his shop on her return home again, she gave him +her usual smile, though without meeting his eye, and tried to forget how +much of him she had seen yesterday. Perhaps she might speak to him +to-morrow and gradually resume ordinary relations, for the prices at the +other fish shop were as high as the quality of the fish was low… +She told herself that there was nothing actually immoral in the human +skin, however embarrassing it was.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Miss Mapp had experienced a cruel disappointment last night, though the +triumph of this morning had done something to soothe it, for Major +Benjy’s window had certainly been lit up to a very late hour, and +so it was clear that he had not been able, twice in succession, to tear +himself away from his diaries, or whatever else detained him, and go to +bed at a proper time. Captain Puffin, however, had not sat up late; +indeed he must have gone to bed quite unusually early, for his window +was dark by half-past nine. To-night, again the position was reversed, +and it seemed that Major Benjy was “good” and Captain Puffin +was “bad.” On the whole, then, there was cause for +thankfulness, and as she added a tin of biscuits and two jars of bovril +to her prudent stores, she found herself a conscious sceptic about those +Roman roads. Diaries (perhaps) were a little different, for egoism was a +more potent force than archæology, and for her part she now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +definitely believed that Roman roads spelt some form of drink. She was +sorry to believe it, but it was her duty to believe something of the +kind, and she really did not know what else to believe. She did not go +so far as mentally to accuse him of drunkenness, but considering the way +he absorbed red-currant fool, it was clear that he was no foe to alcohol +and probably watered the Roman roads with it. With her vivid imagination +she pictured him——</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp recalled herself from this melancholy reflection and put up +her hand just in time to save a bottle of bovril which she had put on +the top shelf in front of the sack of flour from tumbling to the ground. +With the latest additions she had made to her larder, it required +considerable ingenuity to fit all the tins and packages in, and for a +while she diverted her mind from Captain Puffin’s drinking to her +own eating. But by careful packing and balancing she managed to stow +everything away with sufficient economy of space to allow her to shut +the door, and then put the card-table in place again. It was then late, +and with a fond look at her sweet flowers sleeping in the moonlight, she +went to bed. Captain Puffin’s sitting-room was still alight, and +even as she deplored this, his shadow in profile crossed the blind. +Shadows were queer things—she could make a beautiful shadow-rabbit +on the wall by a dexterous interlacement of fingers and thumbs—and +certainly this shadow, in the momentary glance she had of it, appeared +to have a large moustache. She could make nothing whatever out of that, +except to suppose that just as fingers and thumbs became a rabbit, so +his nose became a moustache, for he could not have grown one since he +came back from golf…</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>She was out early for her shopping next morning, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +there were some delicacies to be purchased for her bridge-party, more +particularly some little chocolate cakes she had lately discovered which +looked very small and innocent, were in reality of so cloying and +substantial a nature, that the partaker thereof would probably not feel +capable of making any serious inroads into other provisions. Naturally +she was much on the alert to-day, for it was more than possible that +Diva’s dress was finished and in evidence. What colour it would be +she did not know, but a large quantity of rosebuds would, even at a +distance, make identification easy. Diva was certainly not at her window +this morning, so it seemed more than probable that they would soon meet.</p> + +<p>Far away, just crossing the High Street at the further end, she caught +sight of a bright patch of purple, very much of the required shape. +There was surely a pink border round the skirt and a pink panel on the +collar, and just as surely Mrs. Bartlett, recognizable for her gliding +mouse-like walk, was moving in its fascinating wake. Then the purple +patch vanished into a shop, and Miss Mapp, all smiles and poppies, went +with her basket up the street. Presently she encountered Evie, who, also +all smiles, seemed to have some communication to make, but only got as +far as “Have you seen”—when she gave a little squeal +of laughter, quite inexplicable, and glided into some dark entry. A +minute afterwards, the purple patch suddenly appeared from a shop and +almost collided with her. It was not Diva at all, but Diva’s +Janet.</p> + +<p>The shock was so indescribably severe that Miss Mapp’s smile was +frozen, so to speak, as by some sudden congealment on to her face, and +did not thaw off it till she had reached the sharp turn at the end of +the street, where she leaned heavily on the railing and breathed through +her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +nose. A light autumnal mist overlay the miles of marsh, but the sun was +already drinking it up, promising the Tillingites another golden day. +The tidal river was at the flood, and the bright water lapped the bases +of the turf-covered banks that kept it within its course. Beyond that +was the tram-station towards which presently Major Benjy and Captain +Puffin would be hurrying to catch the tram that would take them out to +the golf links. The straight road across the marsh was visible, and the +railway bridge. All these things were pitilessly unchanged, and Miss +Mapp noted them blankly, until rage began to restore the numbed current +of her mental processes.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>If the records of history contained any similar instance of such +treachery and low cunning as was involved in this plot of Diva’s +to dress Janet in the rosebud chintz, Miss Mapp would have liked to be +told clearly and distinctly what it was. She could trace the workings of +Diva’s base mind with absolute accuracy, and if all the archangels +in the hierarchy of heaven had assured her that Diva had originally +intended the rosebuds for Janet, she would have scorned them for their +clumsy perjury. Diva had designed and executed that dress for herself, +and just because Miss Mapp’s ingenuity (inspired by the two +rosebuds that had fluttered out of the window) had forestalled her, she +had taken this fiendish revenge. It was impossible to pervade the High +Street covered with chintz poppies when a parlourmaid was being equally +pervasive in chintz rosebuds, and what was to be done with this frock +executed with such mirth and malice by Withers, Mary and herself she had +no idea. She might just as well give it Withers, for she could no longer +wear it herself, or tear the poppies from the hem and bestrew the High +Street with them…<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +Miss Mapp’s face froze into immobility again, for here, trundling +swiftly towards her, was Diva herself.</p> + +<p>Diva appeared not to see her till she got quite close.</p> + +<p>“Morning, Elizabeth,” she said. “Seen my Janet +anywhere?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>Janet (no doubt according to instructions received) popped out of a +shop, and came towards her mistress.</p> + +<p>“Here she is,” said Diva. “All right, Janet. You go +home. I’ll see to the other things.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a lovely day,” said Miss Mapp, beginning to lash +her tail. “So bright.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Pretty trimming of poppies,” said Diva. +“Janet’s got rosebuds.”</p> + +<p>This was too much.</p> + +<p>“Diva, I didn’t think it of you,” said Miss Mapp in a +shaking voice. “You saw my new frock yesterday, and you were +filled with malice and envy, Diva, just because I had thought of using +flowers off an old chintz as well as you, and came out first with it. +You had meant to wear that purple frock yourself—though I must say +it fits Janet perfectly—and just because I was first in the field +you did this. You gave Janet that frock, so that I should be dressed in +the same style as your parlourmaid, and you’ve got a black heart, +Diva!”</p> + +<p>“That’s nonsense,” said Diva firmly. +“Heart’s as red as anybody’s, and talking of black +hearts doesn’t become <i>you</i>, Elizabeth. You knew I was cutting out +roses from my curtains——”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp laughed shrilly.</p> + +<p>“Well, if I happen to notice that you’ve taken your chintz +curtains down,” she said with an awful distinctness that showed +the wisdom-teeth of which Diva had got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +three at the most, “and pink bunches of roses come flying out of +your window into the High Street, even my poor wits, small as they are, +are equal to drawing the conclusion that you are cutting roses out of +curtains. Your well-known fondness for dress did the rest. With your +permission, Diva, I intend to draw exactly what conclusions I please on +every occasion, including this one.”</p> + +<p>“Ho! That’s how you got the idea then,” said Diva. +“I knew you had cribbed it from me.”</p> + +<p>“Cribbed?” asked Miss Mapp, in ironical ignorance of what so +vulgar and slangy an expression meant.</p> + +<p>“Cribbed means taking what isn’t yours,” said Diva. +“Even then, if you had only acted in a straightforward +manner——”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp, shaken as with palsy, regretted that she had let slip, out of +pure childlike joy, in irony, the manner in which she had obtained the +poppy-notion, but in a quarrel regrets are useless, and she went on +again.</p> + +<p>“And would you very kindly explain how or when I have acted in a +manner that was not straightforward,” she asked with laborious +politeness. “Or do I understand that a monopoly of cutting up +chintz curtains for personal adornment has been bestowed on you by Act +of Parliament?”</p> + +<p>“You knew I was meaning to make a frock with chintz roses on +it,” said Diva. “You stole my idea. Worked night and day to +be first. Just like you. Mean behaviour.”</p> + +<p>“It was meaner to give that frock to Janet,” said Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>“You can give yours to Withers,” snapped Diva.</p> + +<p>“Much obliged, Mrs. Plaistow,” said Miss Mapp.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Diva had been watching Janet’s retreating figure, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +feeling that though revenge was sweet, revenge was also strangely +expensive, for she had sacrificed one of the most strikingly successful +frocks she had ever made on that smoking altar. Now her revenge was +gratified, and deeply she regretted the frock. Miss Mapp’s heart +was similarly wrung by torture: revenge too had been hers (general +revenge on Diva for existing), but this dreadful counter-stroke had made +it quite impossible for her to enjoy the use of this frock any more, for +she could not habit herself like a housemaid. Each, in fact, had, as +matters at present stood, completely wrecked the other, like two express +trains meeting in top-speed collision, and, since the quarrel had +clearly risen to its utmost height, there was no farther joy of battle +to be anticipated, but only the melancholy task of counting the corpses. +So they paused, breathing very quickly and trembling, while both sought +for some way out. Besides Miss Mapp had a bridge-party this afternoon, +and if they parted now in this extreme state of tension, Diva might +conceivably not come, thereby robbing herself of her bridge and spoiling +her hostess’s table. Naturally any permanent quarrel was not +contemplated by either of them, for if quarrels were permanent in +Tilling, nobody would be on speaking terms any more with anyone else in +a day or two, and (hardly less disastrous) there could be no fresh +quarrels with anybody, since you could not quarrel without words. There +might be songs without words, as Mendelssohn had proved, but not rows +without words. By what formula could this deadly antagonism be bridged +without delay?</p> + +<p>Diva gazed out over the marsh. She wanted desperately to regain her +rosebud-frock, and she knew that Elizabeth was starving for further +wearing of her poppies. Perhaps the wide, serene plain below inspired +her with a hatred of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +littleness. There would be no loss of dignity in making a proposal that +her enemy, she felt sure, would accept: it merely showed a Christian +spirit, and set an example to Elizabeth, to make the first move. Janet +she did not consider.</p> + +<p>“If you are in a fit state to listen to reason, Elizabeth,” +she began.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp heaved a sigh of relief. Diva had thought of something. She +swallowed the insult at a gulp.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Got an idea. Take away Janet’s frock, and wear it myself. +Then you can wear yours. Too pretty for parlour-maids. Eh?”</p> + +<p>A heavenly brightness spread over Miss Mapp’s face.</p> + +<p>“Oh, how wonderful of you to have thought of that, Diva,” +she said. “But how shall we explain it all to everybody?”</p> + +<p>Diva clung to her rights. Though clearly Christian, she was human.</p> + +<p>“Say I thought of tacking chintz on and told you,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, darling,” said Elizabeth. “That’s +beautiful, I agree. But poor Janet!”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give her some other old thing,” said Diva. +“Good sort, Janet. Wants me to win.”</p> + +<p>“And about her having been seen wearing it?”</p> + +<p>“Say she hasn’t ever worn it. Say they’re mad,” +said Diva.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp felt it better to tear herself away before she began +distilling all sorts of acidities that welled up in her fruitful mind. +She could, for instance, easily have agreed that nothing was more +probable than that Janet had been mistaken for her mistress…</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +“Au reservoir then, dear,” she said tenderly. “See you +at about four? And will you wear your pretty rosebud frock?”</p> + +<p>This was agreed to, and Diva went home to take it away from Janet.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>The reconciliation of course was strictly confined to matters relating +to chintz and did not include such extraneous subjects as coal-strike or +food-hoarding, and even in the first glowing moments of restored +friendliness, Diva began wondering whether she would have the +opportunity that afternoon of testing the truth of her conjecture about +the cupboard in the garden-room. Cudgel her brains as she might she +could think of no other <i>cache</i> that could contain the immense amount of +provisions that Elizabeth had probably accumulated, and she was all on +fire to get to practical grips with the problem. As far as tins of +corned beef and tongues went, Elizabeth might possibly have buried them +in her garden in the manner of a dog, but it was not likely that a +hoarder would limit herself to things in tins. No: there was a cupboard +somewhere ready to burst with strong supporting foods…</p> + +<p>Diva intentionally arrived a full quarter of an hour on the hither side +of punctuality, and was taken by Withers out into the garden-room, where +tea was laid, and two card-tables were in readiness. She was, of course, +the first of the guests, and the moment Withers withdrew to tell her +mistress that she had come, Diva stealthily glided to the cupboard, from +in front of which the bridge-table had been removed, feeling the shrill +joy of some romantic treasure hunter. She found the catch, she pressed +it, she pulled open the door and the whole of the damning profusion of +provisions burst upon her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +delighted eyes. Shelf after shelf was crowded with eatables; there were +tins of corned beef and tongues (that she knew already), there was a +sack of flour, there were tubes of Bath Oliver biscuits, bottles of +bovril, the yield of a thousand condensed Swiss cows, jars of +prunes… All these were in the front row, flush with the door, and +who knew to what depth the cupboard extended? Even as she feasted her +eyes on this incredible store, some package on the top shelf wavered and +toppled, and she had only just time to shut the door again, in order to +prevent it falling out on to the floor. But this displacement prevented +the door from wholly closing, and push and shove as Diva might, she +could not get the catch to click home, and the only result of her energy +and efforts was to give rise to a muffled explosion from within, just +precisely as if something made of cardboard had burst. That mental image +was so vivid that to her fevered imagination it seemed to be real. This +was followed by certain faint taps from within against “Elegant +Extracts” and “Astronomy.”</p> + +<p>Diva grew very red in the face, and said “Drat it” under her +breath. She did not dare open the door again in order to push things +back, for fear of an uncontrollable stream of “things” +pouring out. Some nicely balanced equilibrium had clearly been upset in +those capacious shelves, and it was impossible to tell, without looking, +how deep and how extensive the disturbance was. And in order to look, +she had to open the bookcase again… Luckily the pressure against +the door was not sufficiently heavy to cause it to swing wide, so the +best she could do was to leave it just ajar with temporary quiescence +inside. Simultaneously she heard Miss Mapp’s step, and had no more +than time to trundle at the utmost speed of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +whirling feet across to the window, where she stood looking out, and +appeared quite unconscious of her hostess’s entry.</p> + +<p>“Diva darling, how sweet of you to come so early!” she said. +“A little cosy chat before the others arrive.”</p> + +<p>Diva turned round, much startled.</p> + +<p>“Hullo!” she said. “Didn’t hear you. Got +Janet’s frock you see.”</p> + +<p>(“What makes Diva’s face so red?” thought Miss Mapp.)</p> + +<p>“So I see, darling,” she said. “Lovely rose-garden. +How well it suits you, dear! Did Janet mind?”</p> + +<p>“No. Promised her a new frock at Christmas.”</p> + +<p>“That will be nice for Janet,” said Elizabeth +enthusiastically. “Shall we pop into the garden, dear, till my +guests come?”</p> + +<p>Diva was glad to pop into the garden and get away from the immediate +vicinity of the cupboard, for though she had planned and looked forward +to the exposure of Elizabeth’s hoarding, she had not meant it to +come, as it now probably would, in crashes of tins and bursting of +bovril bottles. Again she had intended to have opened that door quite +casually and innocently while she was being dummy, so that everyone +could see how accidental the exposure was, and to have gone poking about +the cupboard in Elizabeth’s absence was a shade too professional, +so to speak, for the usual detective work of Tilling. But the fuse was +set now. Sooner or later the explosion must come. She wondered as they +went out to commune with Elizabeth’s sweet flowers till the other +guests arrived how great a torrent would be let loose. She did not +repent her exploration—far from it—but her pleasurable +anticipations were strongly diluted with suspense.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp had found such difficulty in getting eight players together +to-day, that she had transgressed her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +principles and asked Mrs. Poppit as well as Isabel, and they, with Diva, +the two Bartletts, and the Major and the Captain, formed the party. The +moment Mrs. Poppit appeared, Elizabeth hated her more than ever, for she +put up her glasses, and began to give her patronizing advice about her +garden, which she had not been allowed to see before.</p> + +<p>“You have quite a pretty little piece of garden, Miss Mapp,” +she said, “though, to be sure, I fancied from what you said that +it was more extensive. Dear me, your roses do not seem to be doing very +well. Probably they are old plants and want renewing. You must send your +gardener round—you keep a gardener?—and I will let you have +a dozen vigorous young bushes.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp licked her dry lips. She kept a kind of gardener: two days a +week.</p> + +<p>“Too good of you,” she said, “but that rose-bed is +quite sacred, dear Mrs. Poppit. Not all the vigorous young bushes in the +world would tempt me. It’s my ‘Friendship’s +Border:’ some dear friend gave me each of my rose-trees.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Poppit transferred her gaze to the wistaria that grew over the +steps up to the garden-room. Some of the dear friends she thought must +be centenarians.</p> + +<p>“Your wistaria wants pruning sadly,” she said. “Your +gardener does not understand wistarias. That corner there was made, I +may say, for fuchsias. You should get a dozen choice fuchsias.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp laughed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you must excuse me,” she said with a glance at Mrs. +Poppit’s brocaded silk. “I can’t bear fuchsias. They +always remind me of over-dressed women. Ah, there’s Mr. Bartlett. +How de do, Padre. And dear Evie!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +Dear Evie appeared fascinated by Diva’s dress.</p> + +<p>“Such beautiful rosebuds,” she murmured, “and what +lovely shade of purple. And Elizabeth’s poppies too, quite a pair +of you. But surely this morning, Diva, didn’t I see your good +Janet in just such another dress, and I thought at the time how odd it +was that——”</p> + +<p>“If you saw Janet this morning,” said Diva quite firmly, +“you saw her in her print dress.”</p> + +<p>“And here’s Major Benjy,” said Miss Mapp, who had made +her slip about his Christian name yesterday, and had been duly entreated +to continue slipping. “And Captain Puffin. Well, that is nice! +Shall we go into my little garden shed, dear Mrs. Poppit, and have our +tea?”</p> + +<p>Major Flint was still a little lame, for his golf to-day had been of the +nature of gardening, and he hobbled up the steps behind the ladies, with +that little cock-sparrow sailor following him and telling the Padre how +badly and yet how successfully he himself had played.</p> + +<p>“Pleasantest room in Tilling, I always say, Miss Elizabeth,” +said he, diverting his mind from a mere game to the fairies.</p> + +<p>“My dear little room,” said Miss Mapp, knowing that it was +much larger than anything in Mrs. Poppit’s house. “So +tiny!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, not a bad-sized little room,” said Mrs. Poppit +encouragingly. “Much the same proportions, on a very small scale, +as the throne-room at Buckingham Palace.”</p> + +<p>“That beautiful throne-room!” exclaimed Miss Mapp. “A +cup of tea, dear Mrs. Poppit? None of that naughty red-currant fool, I +am afraid. And a little chocolate-cake?”</p> + +<p>These substantial chocolate cakes soon did their fell work of producing +the sense of surfeit, and presently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +Elizabeth’s guests dropped off gorged from the tea-table. Diva +fortunately remembered their consistency in time, and nearly cleared a +plate of jumbles instead, which the hostess had hoped would form a +pleasant accompaniment to her dessert at her supper this evening, and +was still crashingly engaged on them when the general drifting movement +towards the two bridge-tables set in. Mrs. Poppit, with her glasses up, +followed by Isabel, was employed in making a tour of the room, in case, +as Miss Mapp had already determined, she never saw it again, examining +the quality of the carpet, the curtains, the chair-backs with the air of +a doubtful purchaser.</p> + +<p>“And quite a quantity of books, I see,” she announced as she +came opposite the fatal cupboard. “Look, Isabel, what a quantity +of books. There is something strange about them, though; I do not +believe they are real.”</p> + +<p>She put out her hand and pulled at the back of one of the volumes of +“Elegant Extracts.” The door swung open, and from behind it +came a noise of rattling, bumping and clattering. Something soft and +heavy thumped on to the floor, and a cloud of floury dust arose. A +bottle of bovril embedded itself quietly there without damage, and a tin +of Bath Oliver biscuits beat a fierce tattoo on one of corned beef. +Innumerable dried apricots from the burst package flew about like +shrapnel, and tapped at the tins. A jar of prunes, breaking its fall on +the flour, rolled merrily out into the middle of the floor.</p> + +<p>The din was succeeded by complete silence. The Padre had said +“What ho, i’ fegs?” during the tumult, but his voice +had been drowned by the rattling of the dried apricots. The Member of +the Order of the British Empire stepped free of the provisions that +bumped round her, and examined them through her glasses. Diva +crammed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +the last jumble into her mouth and disposed of it with the utmost +rapidity. The birthday of her life had come, as Miss Rossetti said.</p> + +<p>“Dear Elizabeth!” she exclaimed. “What a disaster! All +your little stores in case of the coal strike. Let me help to pick them +up. I do not think anything is broken. Isn’t that lucky?”</p> + +<p>Evie hurried to the spot.</p> + +<p>“Such a quantity of good things,” she said rapidly under her +breath. “Tinned meats and bovril and prunes, and ever so many +apricots. Let me pick them all up, and with a little dusting… +Why, what a big cupboard, and such a quantity of good things.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp had certainly struck a streak of embarrassments. What with +naked Mr. Hopkins, and Janet’s frock and this unveiling of her +hoard, life seemed at the moment really to consist of nothing else than +beastly situations. How on earth that catch of the door had come undone, +she had no idea, but much as she would have liked to suspect foul play +from somebody, she was bound to conclude that Mrs. Poppit with her +prying hands had accidentally pressed it. It was like Diva, of course, +to break the silence with odious allusions to hoarding, and bitterly she +wished that she had not started the topic the other day, but had been +content to lay in her stores without so pointedly affirming that she was +doing nothing of the kind. But this was no time for vain laments, and +restraining a natural impulse to scratch and beat Mrs. Poppit, she +exhibited an admirable inventiveness and composure. Though she knew it +would deceive nobody, everybody had to pretend he was deceived.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my poor little Christmas presents for your needy +parishioners, Padre,” she said. “You’ve seen +them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +before you were meant to, and you must forget all about them. And so +little harm done, just an apricot or two. Withers will pick them all up, +so let us get to our bridge.”</p> + +<p>Withers entered the room at this moment to clear away tea, and Miss Mapp +explained it all over again.</p> + +<p>“All our little Christmas presents have come tumbling out, +Withers,” she said. “Will you put as many as you can back in +the cupboard and take the rest indoors? Don’t tread on the +apricots.”</p> + +<p>It was difficult to avoid doing this, as the apricots were everywhere, +and their colour on the brown carpet was wonderfully protective. Miss +Mapp herself had already stepped on two, and their adhesive stickiness +was hard to get rid of. In fact, for the next few minutes the +coal-shovel was in strong request for their removal from the soles of +shoes, and the fender was littered with their squashed remains… +The party generally was distinctly thoughtful as it sorted itself out +into two tables, for every single member of it was trying to assimilate +the amazing proposition that Miss Mapp had, half-way through September, +loaded her cupboard with Christmas presents on a scale that staggered +belief. The feat required thought: it required a faith so childlike as +to verge on the imbecile. Conversation during deals had an awkward +tendency towards discussion of the coal strike. As often as it drifted +there the subject was changed very abruptly, just as if there was some +occult reason for not speaking of so natural a topic. It concerned +everybody, but it was rightly felt to concern Miss Mapp the +most…</p> + +<hr /><p class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p>It was the Major’s turn to entertain his friend, and by half-past +nine, on a certain squally October evening, he and Puffin were seated by +the fire in the diary-room, while the rain volleyed at the windows and +occasional puffs of stinging smoke were driven down the chimney by the +gale that squealed and buffeted round the house. Puffin, by way of +keeping up the comedy of Roman roads, had brought a map of the district +across from his house, but the more essential part of his equipment for +this studious evening was a bottle of whisky. Originally the host had +provided whisky for himself and his guest at these pleasant chats, but +there were undeniable objections to this plan, because the guest always +proved unusually thirsty, which tempted his host to keep pace with him, +while if they both drank at their own expense, the causes of economy and +abstemiousness had a better chance. Also, while the Major took his +drinks short and strong in a small tumbler, Puffin enriched his with +lemons and sugar in a large one, so that nobody could really tell if +equality as well as fraternity was realized. But if each brought his own +bottle…</p> + +<p>It had been a trying day, and the Major was very lame. A drenching storm +had come up during their golf, while they were far from the club-house, +and Puffin, being three up, had very naturally refused to accede to his +opponent’s suggestion to call the match off. He was perfectly +willing to be paid his half-crown and go home, but Major Flint, +remembering that Puffin’s game usually went to pieces if it +rained, had rejected this proposal with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +the scorn that it deserved. There had been other disagreeable incidents +as well. His driver, slippery from rain, had flown out of the +Major’s hands on the twelfth tee, and had “shot like a +streamer of the northern morn,” and landed in a pool of brackish +water left by an unusually high tide. The ball had gone into another +pool nearer the tee. The ground was greasy with moisture, and three +holes further on Puffin had fallen flat on his face instead of lashing +his fifth shot home on to the green, as he had intended. They had given +each other stimies, and each had holed his opponent’s ball by +mistake; they had wrangled over the correct procedure if you lay in a +rabbit-scrape or on the tram lines; the Major had lost a new ball; there +was a mushroom on one of the greens between Puffin’s ball and the +hole… All these untoward incidents had come crowding in together, +and from the Major’s point of view, the worst of them all had been +the collective incident that Puffin, so far from being put off by the +rain, had, in spite of mushroom and falling down, played with a +steadiness of which he was usually quite incapable. Consequently Major +Flint was lame and his wound troubled him, while Puffin, in spite of his +obvious reasons for complacency, was growing irritated with his +companion’s ill-temper, and was half blinded by wood-smoke.</p> + +<p>He wiped his streaming eyes.</p> + +<p>“You should get your chimney swept,” he observed.</p> + +<p>Major Flint had put his handkerchief over his face to keep the +wood-smoke out of his eyes. He blew it off with a loud, indignant puff.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Ah! Indeed!” he said.</p> + +<p>Puffin was rather taken aback by the violence of these interjections; +they dripped with angry sarcasm.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well! No offence,” he said.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +“A man,” said the Major impersonally, “makes an +offensive remark, and says ‘No offence.’ If your own +fireside suits you better than mine, Captain Puffin, all I can say is +that you’re at liberty to enjoy it!”</p> + +<p>This was all rather irregular: they had indulged in a good stiff breeze +this afternoon, and it was too early to ruffle the calm again. Puffin +plucked and proffered an olive-branch.</p> + +<p>“There’s your handkerchief,” he said, picking it up. +“Now let’s have one of our comfortable talks. Hot glass of +grog and a chat over the fire: that’s the best thing after such a +wetting as we got this afternoon. I’ll take a slice of lemon, if +you’ll be so good as to give it me, and a lump of sugar.”</p> + +<p>The Major got up and limped to his cupboard. It struck him precisely at +that moment that Puffin scored considerably over lemons and sugar, +because he was supplied with them gratis every other night; whereas he +himself, when Puffin’s guest, took nothing off his host but hot +water. He determined to ask for some biscuits, anyhow, to-morrow…</p> + +<p>“I hardly know whether there’s a lemon left,” he +grumbled. “I must lay in a store of lemons. As for +sugar——”</p> + +<p>Puffin chose to disregard this suggestion.</p> + +<p>“Amusing incident the other day,” he said brightly, +“when Miss Mapp’s cupboard door flew open. The old lady +didn’t like it. Don’t suppose the poor of the parish will +see much of that corned beef.”</p> + +<p>The Major became dignified.</p> + +<p>“Pardon me,” he said. “When an esteemed friend like +Miss Elizabeth tells me that certain provisions are destined for the +poor of the parish, I take it that her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +statement is correct. I expect others of my friends, while they are in +my presence, to do the same. I have the honour to give you a lemon, +Captain Puffin, and a slice of sugar. I should say a lump of sugar. Pray +make yourself comfortable.”</p> + +<p>This dignified and lofty mood was often one of the after-effects of an +unsuccessful game of golf. It generally yielded quite quickly to a +little stimulant. Puffin filled his glass from the bottle and the +kettle, while his friend put his handkerchief again over his face.</p> + +<p>“Well, I shall just have my grog before I turn in,” he +observed, according to custom. “Aren’t you going to join me, +Major?”</p> + +<p>“Presently, sir,” said the Major.</p> + +<p>Puffin knocked out the consumed cinders in his pipe against the edge of +the fender. Major Flint apparently was waiting for this, for he withdrew +his handkerchief and closely watched the process. A minute piece of ash +fell from Puffin’s pipe on to the hearthrug, and he jumped to his +feet and removed it very carefully with the shovel.</p> + +<p>“I have your permission, I hope?” he said witheringly.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, certainly,” said Puffin. “Now get your +glass, Major. You’ll feel better in a minute or two.”</p> + +<p>Major Flint would have liked to have kept up this magnificent attitude, +but the smell of Puffin’s steaming glass beat dignity down, and +after glaring at him, he limped back to the cupboard for his whisky +bottle. He gave a lamentable cry when he beheld it.</p> + +<p>“But I got that bottle in only the day before yesterday,” he +shouted, “and there’s hardly a drink left in it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you did yourself pretty well last night,” said +Puffin. “Those small glasses of yours, if frequently filled up, +empty a bottle quicker than you seem to realize.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +Motives of policy prevented the Major from receiving this with the +resentment that was proper to it, and his face cleared. He would get +quits over these incessant lemons and lumps of sugar.</p> + +<p>“Well, you’ll have to let me borrow from you +to-night,” he said genially, as he poured the rest of the contents +of his bottle into the glass. “Ah, that’s more the ticket! A +glass of whisky a day keeps the doctor away.”</p> + +<p>The prospect of sponging on Puffin was most exhilarating, and he put his +large slippered feet on to the fender.</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed, that was a highly amusing incident about Miss +Mapp’s cupboard,” he said. “And wasn’t Mrs. +Plaistow down on her like a knife about it? Our fair friends, you know, +have a pretty sharp eye for each other’s little failings. +They’ve no sooner finished one squabble than they begin another, +the pert little fairies. They can’t sit and enjoy themselves like +two old cronies I could tell you of, and feel at peace with all the +world.”</p> + +<p>He finished his glass at a gulp, and seemed much surprised to find it +empty.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be borrowing a drop from you, old friend,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“Help yourself, Major,” said Puffin, with a keen eye as to +how much he took.</p> + +<p>“Very obliging of you. I feel as if I caught a bit of a chill this +afternoon. My wound.”</p> + +<p>“Be careful not to inflame it,” said Puffin.</p> + +<p>“Thank ye for the warning. It’s this beastly climate that +touches it up. A winter in England adds years on to a man’s life +unless he takes care of himself. Take care of yourself, old boy. Have +some more sugar.”</p> + +<p>Before long the Major’s hand was moving slowly and instinctively +towards Puffin’s whisky bottle again.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +“I reckon that big glass of yours, Puffin,” he said, +“holds between three and a half times to four times what my little +tumbler holds. Between three and a half and four I should reckon. I may +be wrong.”</p> + +<p>“Reckoning the water in, I daresay you’re not far out, +Major,” said he. “And according to my estimate you mix your +drink somewhere about three and a half times to four stronger than I mix +mine.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come, come!” said the Major.</p> + +<p>“Three and a half to four times, <i>I</i> should say,” repeated +Puffin. “You won’t find I’m far out.”</p> + +<p>He replenished his big tumbler, and instead of putting the bottle back +on the table, absently deposited it on the floor on the far side of his +chair. This second tumbler usually marked the most convivial period of +the evening, for the first would have healed whatever unhappy discords +had marred the harmony of the day, and, those being disposed of, they +very contentedly talked through their hats about past prowesses, and +took a rosy view of the youth and energy which still beat in their +vigorous pulses. They would begin, perhaps, by extolling each other: +Puffin, when informed that his friend would be fifty-four next birthday, +flatly refused (without offence) to believe it, and, indeed, he was +quite right in so doing, because the Major was in reality fifty-six. In +turn, Major Flint would say that his friend had the figure of a boy of +twenty, which caused Puffin presently to feel a little cramped and to +wander negligently in front of the big looking-glass between the +windows, and find this compliment much easier to swallow than the +Major’s age. For the next half-hour they would chiefly talk about +themselves in a pleasant glow of self-satisfaction. Major Flint, looking +at the various implements and trophies that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +adorned the room, would suggest putting a sporting challenge in the +<i>Times</i>.</p> + +<p>“’Pon my word, Puffin,” he would say, +“I’ve half a mind to do it. Retired Major of His +Majesty’s Forces—the King, God bless him!” (and he +took a substantial sip); “‘Retired Major, aged fifty-four, +challenges any gentleman of fifty years or over.’”</p> + +<p>“Forty,” said Puffin sycophantically, as he thought over +what he would say about himself when the old man had finished.</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll halve it, we’ll say forty-five, to please +you, Puffin—let’s see, where had I got +to?—‘Retired Major challenges any gentleman of forty-five +years or over to—to a shooting match in the morning, followed by +half a dozen rounds with four-ounce gloves, a game of golf, eighteen +holes, in the afternoon, and a billiard match of two hundred up after +tea.’ Ha! ha! I shouldn’t feel much anxiety as to the +result.”</p> + +<p>“My confounded leg!” said Puffin. “But I know a +retired captain from His Majesty’s merchant service—the +King, God bless him!—aged fifty——”</p> + +<p>“Ho! ho! Fifty, indeed!” said the Major, thinking to himself +that a dried-up little man like Puffin might be as old as an Egyptian +mummy. Who can tell the age of a kipper?…</p> + +<p>“Not a day less, Major. ‘Retired Captain, aged fifty, +who’ll take on all comers of forty-two and over, at a +steeplechase, round of golf, billiard match, hopping match, gymnastic +competition, swinging Indian clubs——’ No objection, +gentlemen? Then carried <i>nem. con.</i>”</p> + +<p>This gaseous mood, athletic, amatory or otherwise (the amatory ones were +the worst), usually faded slowly, like the light from the setting sun or +an exhausted coal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +in the grate, about the end of Puffin’s second tumbler, and the +gentlemen after that were usually somnolent, but occasionally laid the +foundation for some disagreement next day, which they were too sleepy to +go into now. Major Flint by this time would have had some five small +glasses of whisky (equivalent, as he bitterly observed, to one in +pre-war days), and as he measured his next with extreme care and a +slightly jerky movement, would announce it as being his night-cap, +though you would have thought he had plenty of night-caps on already. +Puffin correspondingly took a thimbleful more (the thimble apparently +belonging to some housewife of Anak), and after another half-hour of +sudden single snores and startings awake again, of pipes frequently lit +and immediately going out, the guest, still perfectly capable of +coherent speech and voluntary motion in the required direction, would +stumble across the dark cobbles to his house, and doors would be very +carefully closed for fear of attracting the attention of the lady who at +this period of the evening was usually known as “Old Mappy.” +The two were perfectly well aware of the sympathetic interest that Old +Mappy took in all that concerned them, and that she had an eye on their +evening séances was evidenced by the frequency with which the +corner of her blind in the window of the garden-room was raised between, +say, half-past nine and eleven at night. They had often watched with +giggles the pencil of light that escaped, obscured at the lower end by +the outline of Old Mappy’s head, and occasionally drank to the +“Guardian Angel.” Guardian Angel, in answer to direct +inquiries, had been told by Major Benjy during the last month that he +worked at his diaries on three nights in the week and went to bed early +on the others, to the vast improvement of his mental grasp.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +“And on Sunday night, dear Major Benjy?” asked Old Mappy in +the character of Guardian Angel.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think you knew my beloved, my revered mother, Miss +Elizabeth,” said Major Benjy. “I spend Sunday evening +as—— Well, well.”</p> + +<p>The very next Sunday evening Guardian Angel had heard the sound of +singing. She could not catch the words, and only fragments of the tune, +which reminded her of “The roseate morn hath passed away.” +Brimming with emotion, she sang it softly to herself as she undressed, +and blamed herself very much for ever having thought that dear Major +Benjy—— She peeped out of her window when she had +extinguished her light, but fortunately the singing had ceased.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>To-night, however, the epoch of Puffin’s second big tumbler was +not accompanied by harmonious developments. Major Benjy was determined +to make the most of this unique opportunity of drinking his +friend’s whisky, and whether Puffin put the bottle on the further +side of him, or under his chair, or under the table, he came padding +round in his slippers and standing near the ambush while he tried to +interest his friend in tales of love or tiger-shooting so as to distract +his attention. When he mistakenly thought he had done so, he hastily +refilled his glass, taking unusually stiff doses for fear of not getting +another opportunity, and altogether omitting to ask Puffin’s leave +for these maraudings. When this had happened four or five times, Puffin, +acting on the instinct of the polar bear who eats her babies for fear +that anybody else should get them, surreptitiously poured the rest of +his bottle into his glass, and filled it up to the top with hot water, +making a mixture of extraordinary power.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +Soon after this Major Flint came rambling round the table again. He was +not sure whether Puffin had put the bottle by his chair or behind the +coal-scuttle, and was quite ignorant of the fact that wherever it was, +it was empty. Amorous reminiscences to-night had been the accompaniment +to Puffin’s second tumbler.</p> + +<p>“Devilish fine woman she was,” he said, “and that was +the last that Benjamin Flint ever saw of her. She went up to the hills +next morning——”</p> + +<p>“But the last you saw of her just now was on the deck of the P. +and O. at Bombay,” objected Puffin. “Or did she go up to the +hills on the deck of the P. and O.? Wonderful line!”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said Benjamin Flint, “that was Helen, <i>la +belle Hélène</i>. It was <i>la belle Hélène</i> whom +I saw off at the Apollo Bunder. I don’t know if I told +you—— By Gad, I’ve kicked the bottle over. No idea you’d +put it there. Hope the cork’s in.”</p> + +<p>“No harm if it isn’t,” said Puffin, beginning on his +third most fiery glass. The strength of it rather astonished him.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say it’s empty?” asked Major +Flint. “Why just now there was close on a quarter of a bottle +left.”</p> + +<p>“As much as that?” asked Puffin. “Glad to hear +it.”</p> + +<p>“Not a drop less. You don’t mean to say—— Well, if you +can drink that and can say hippopotamus afterwards, I should put that +among your challenges, to men of four hundred and two: I should say +forty-two. It’s a fine thing to have a strong head, though if I +drank what you’ve got in your glass, I should be tipsy, +sir.”</p> + +<p>Puffin laughed in his irritating falsetto manner.</p> + +<p>“Good thing that it’s in my glass then, and not your +glass,” he said. “And lemme tell you, Major, in case +you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +don’t know it, that when I’ve drunk every drop of this and +sucked the lemon, you’ll have had far more out of my bottle this +evening than I have. My usual twice and—and my usual night-cap, as +you say, is what’s my ration, and I’ve had no more than my +ration. Eight Bells.”</p> + +<p>“And a pretty good ration you’ve got there,” said the +baffled Major. “Without your usual twice.”</p> + +<p>Puffin was beginning to be aware of that as he swallowed the fiery +mixture, but nothing in the world would now have prevented his drinking +every single drop of it. It was clear to him, among so much that was dim +owing to the wood-smoke, that the Major would miss a good many drives +to-morrow morning.</p> + +<p>“And whose whisky is it?” he said, gulping down the fiery +stuff.</p> + +<p>“I know whose it’s going to be,” said the other.</p> + +<p>“And I know whose it is now,” retorted Puffin, “and I +know whose whisky it is that’s filled you up ti’ as a drum. +Tight as a drum,” he repeated very carefully.</p> + +<p>Major Flint was conscious of an unusual activity of brain, and, when he +spoke, of a sort of congestion and entanglement of words. It pleased him +to think that he had drunk so much of somebody’s else whisky, but +he felt that he ought to be angry.</p> + +<p>“That’s a very unmentionable sor’ of thing to +say,” he remarked. “An’ if it wasn’t for the +sacred claims of hospitality, I’d make you explain just what you +mean by that, and make you eat your words. Pologize, in fact.”</p> + +<p>Puffin finished his glass at a gulp, and rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>“Pologies be blowed,” he said. “Hittopopamus!”</p> + +<p>“And were you addressing that to me?” asked Major Flint with +deadly calm.</p> + +<p>“Of course, I was. Hippot—— same animal as +before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +Pleasant old boy. And as for the lemon you lent me, well, I don’t +want it any more. Have a suck at it, ole fellow! I don’t want it +any more.”</p> + +<p>The Major turned purple in the face, made a course for the door like a +knight’s move at chess (a long step in one direction and a short +one at right angles to the first) and opened it. The door thus served as +an aperture from the room and a support to himself. He spoke no word of +any sort or kind: his silence spoke for him in a far more dignified +manner than he could have managed for himself.</p> + +<p>Captain Puffin stood for a moment wreathed in smiles, and fingering the +slice of lemon, which he had meant playfully to throw at his friend. But +his smile faded, and by some sort of telepathic perception he realized +how much more decorous it was to say (or, better, to indicate) +good-night in a dignified manner than to throw lemons about. He walked +in dots and dashes like a Morse code out of the room, bestowing a naval +salute on the Major as he passed. The latter returned it with a military +salute and a suppressed hiccup. Not a word passed.</p> + +<p>Then Captain Puffin found his hat and coat without much difficulty, and +marched out of the house, slamming the door behind him with a bang that +echoed down the street and made Miss Mapp dream about a thunderstorm. He +let himself into his own house, and bent down before his expired fire, +which he tried to blow into life again. This was unsuccessful, and he +breathed in a quantity of wood-ash.</p> + +<p>He sat down by his table and began to think things out. He told himself +that he was not drunk at all, but that he had taken an unusual quantity +of whisky, which seemed to produce much the same effect as intoxication. +Allowing for that, he was conscious that he was extremely angry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +about something, and had a firm idea that the Major was very angry too.</p> + +<p>“But woz’it all been about?” he vainly asked himself. +“Woz’it all been about?”</p> + +<p>He was roused from his puzzling over this unanswerable conundrum by the +clink of the flap in his letter-box. Either this was the first post in +the morning, in which case it was much later than he thought, and +wonderfully dark still, or it was the last post at night, in which case +it was much earlier than he thought. But, whichever it was, a letter had +been slipped into his box, and he brought it in. The gum on the envelope +was still wet, which saved trouble in opening it. Inside was a half +sheet containing but a few words. This curt epistle ran as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“<span class="sc">Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>“My seconds will wait on you in the course of to-morrow morning.</p> + +<p><span class='ralign'>“Your faithful obedient servant,</span><br /> +<span class='ralign sc'>“Benjamin Flint.</span><br /></p> + +<p>Captain Puffin.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Puffin felt as calm as a tropic night, and as courageous as a captain. +Somewhere below his courage and his calm was an appalling sense of +misgiving. That he successfully stifled.</p> + +<p>“Very proper,” he said aloud. “Qui’ proper. +Insults. Blood. Seconds won’t have to wait a second. Better get a +good sleep.”</p> + +<p>He went up to his room, fell on to his bed and instantly began to snore.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>It was still dark when he awoke, but the square of his window was +visible against the blackness, and he concluded that though it was not +morning yet, it was getting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +on for morning, which seemed a pity. As he turned over on to his side +his hand came in contact with his coat, instead of a sheet, and he +became aware that he had all his clothes on. Then, as with a crash of +cymbals and the beating of a drum in his brain, the events of the +evening before leaped into reality and significance. In a few hours now +arrangements would have been made for a deadly encounter. His anger was +gone, his whisky was gone, and in particular his courage was gone. He +expressed all this compendiously by moaning “Oh, God!”</p> + +<p>He struggled to a sitting position, and lit a match at which he kindled +his candle. He looked for his watch beside it, but it was not there. +What could have happened—then he remembered that it was in its +accustomed place in his waistcoat pocket. A consultation of it followed +by holding it to his ear only revealed the fact that it had stopped at +half-past five. With the lucidity that was growing brighter in his +brain, he concluded that this stoppage was due to the fact that he had +not wound it up… It was after half-past five then, but how much +later only the Lords of Time knew—Time which bordered so closely +on Eternity.</p> + +<p>He felt that he had no use whatever for Eternity but that he must not +waste Time. Just now, that was far more precious.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>From somewhere in the Cosmic <ins class='corr' title="The original read 'Consciousnness'.">Consciousness</ins> +there came to him a thought, namely, that the first train to London +started at half-past six in the morning. It was a slow train, but it got +there, and in any case it went away from Tilling. He did not trouble to +consider how that thought came to him: the important point was that it +had come. Coupled with that was the knowledge that it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +now an undiscoverable number of minutes after half-past five.</p> + +<p>There was a Gladstone bag under his bed. He had brought it back from the +Club-house only yesterday, after that game of golf which had been so +full of disturbances and wet stockings, but which now wore the +shimmering security of peaceful, tranquil days long past. How little, so +he thought to himself, as he began swiftly storing shirts, ties, collars +and other useful things into his bag, had he appreciated the sweet +amenities of life, its pleasant conversations and companionships, its +topped drives, and mushrooms and incalculable incidents. Now they wore a +glamour and a preciousness that was bound up with life itself. He +starved for more of them, not knowing while they were his how sweet they +were.</p> + +<p>The house was not yet astir, when ten minutes later he came downstairs +with his bag. He left on his sitting-room table, where it would catch +the eye of his housemaid, a sheet of paper on which he wrote +“Called away” (he shuddered as he traced the words). +“Forward no letters. Will communicate…” (Somehow the +telegraphic form seemed best to suit the urgency of the situation.) Then +very quietly he let himself out of his house.</p> + +<p>He could not help casting an apprehensive glance at the windows of his +quondam friend and prospective murderer. To his horror he observed that +there was a light behind the blind of the Major’s bedroom, and +pictured him writing to his seconds—he wondered who the +“seconds” were going to be—or polishing up his +pistols. All the rumours and hints of the Major’s duels and +affairs of honour, which he had rather scorned before, not wholly +believing them, poured like a red torrent into his mind, and he found +that now he believed them with a passionate sincerity. Why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +had he ever attempted (and with such small success) to call this +fire-eater a hippopotamus?</p> + +<p>The gale of the night before had abated, and thick chilly rain was +falling from a sullen sky as he tiptoed down the hill. Once round the +corner and out of sight of the duellist’s house, he broke into a +limping run, which was accelerated by the sound of an engine-whistle +from the station. It was mental suspense of the most agonizing kind not +to know how long it was after his watch had stopped that he had awoke, +and the sound of that whistle, followed by several short puffs of steam, +might prove to be the six-thirty bearing away to London, on business or +pleasure, its secure and careless pilgrims. Splashing through puddles, +lopsidedly weighted by his bag, with his mackintosh flapping against his +legs, he gained the sanctuary of the waiting-room and booking-office, +which was lighted by a dim expiring lamp, and scrutinized the face of +the murky clock…</p> + +<p>With a sob of relief he saw that he was in time. He was, indeed, in +exceptionally good time, for he had a quarter of an hour to wait. An +anxious internal debate followed as to whether or not he should take a +return ticket. Optimism, that is to say, the hope that he would return +to Tilling in peace and safety before the six months for which the +ticket was available inclined him to the larger expense, but in these +disquieting circumstances, it was difficult to be optimistic and he +purchased a first-class single, for on such a morning, and on such a +journey, he must get what comfort he could from looking-glasses, padded +seats and coloured photographs of places of interest on the line. He +formed no vision at all of the future: that was a dark well into which +it was dangerous to peer. There was no bright speck in its unplumbable +depths: unless Major Flint died suddenly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +without revealing the challenge he had sent last night, and the +promptitude with which its recipient had disappeared rather than face +his pistol, he could not frame any grouping of events which would make +it possible for him to come back to Tilling again, for he would either +have to fight (and this he was quite determined not to do) or be pointed +at by the finger of scorn as the man who had refused to do so, and this +was nearly as unthinkable as the other. Bitterly he blamed himself for +having made a friend (and worse than that, an enemy) of one so obsolete +and old-fashioned as to bring duelling into modern life… As far +as he could be glad of anything he was glad that he had taken a single, +not a return ticket.</p> + +<p>He turned his eyes away from the blackness of the future and let his +mind dwell on the hardly less murky past. Then, throwing up his hands, +he buried his face in them with a hollow groan. By some miserable +forgetfulness he had left the challenge on his chimney-piece, where his +housemaid would undoubtedly find and read it. That would explain his +absence far better than the telegraphic instructions he had left on his +table. There was no time to go back for it now, even if he could have +faced the risk of being seen by the Major, and in an hour or two the +whole story, via Withers, Janet, etc., would be all over Tilling.</p> + +<p>It was no use then thinking of the future nor of the past, and in order +to anchor himself to the world at all and preserve his sanity he had to +confine himself to the present. The minutes, long though each tarried, +were slipping away and provided his train was punctual, the passage of +five more of these laggards would see him safe. The news-boy took down +the shutters of his stall, a porter quenched the expiring lamp, and +Puffin began to listen for the rumble of the approaching train. It +stayed three minutes here: if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +up to time it would be in before a couple more minutes had passed.</p> + +<p>There came from the station-yard outside the sound of heavy footsteps +running. Some early traveller like himself was afraid of missing the +train. The door burst open, and, streaming with rain and panting for +breath, Major Flint stood at the entry. Puffin looked wildly round to +see whether he could escape, still perhaps unobserved, on to the +platform, but it was too late, for their eyes met.</p> + +<p>In that instant of abject terror, two things struck Puffin. One was that +the Major looked at the open door behind him as if meditating retreat, +the second that he carried a Gladstone bag. Simultaneously Major Flint +spoke, if indeed that reverberating thunder of scornful indignation can +be called speech.</p> + +<p>“Ha! I guessed right then,” he roared. “I guessed, +sir, that you might be meditating flight, and I—in fact, I came +down to see whether you were running away. I was right. You are a +coward, Captain Puffin! But relieve your mind, sir. Major Flint will not +demean himself to fight with a coward.”</p> + +<p>Puffin gave one long sigh of relief, and then, standing in front of his +own Gladstone bag, in order to conceal it, burst into a cackling laugh.</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” he said. “And why, Major, was it necessary +for you to pack a Gladstone bag in order to stop me from running away? +I’ll tell you what has happened. You were running away, and you +know it. I guessed you would. I came to stop you, you, you quaking +runaway. Your wound troubled you, hey? Didn’t want another, +hey?”</p> + +<p>There was an awful pause, broken by the entry from behind the Major of +the outside porter, panting under the weight of a large portmanteau.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +“You had to take your portmanteau, too,” observed Puffin +witheringly, “in order to stop me. That’s a curious way of +stopping me. You’re a coward, sir! But go home. You’re safe +enough. This will be a fine story for tea-parties.”</p> + +<p>Puffin turned from him in scorn, still concealing his own bag. +Unfortunately the flap of his coat caught it, precariously perched on +the bench, and it bumped to the ground.</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” said Major Flint.</p> + +<p>They stared at each other for a moment and then simultaneously burst +into peals of laughter. The train rumbled slowly into the station, but +neither took the least notice of it, and only shook their heads and +broke out again when the station-master urged them to take their seats. +The only thing that had power to restore Captain Puffin to gravity was +the difficulty of getting the money for his ticket refunded, while the +departure of the train with his portmanteau in it did the same for the +Major.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>The events of that night and morning, as may easily be imagined, soon +supplied Tilling with one of the most remarkable conundrums that had +ever been forced upon its notice. Puffin’s housemaid, during his +absence at the station, found and read not only the notice intended for +her eyes, but the challenge which he had left on the chimney-piece. She +conceived it to be her duty to take it down to Mrs. Gashly, his cook, +and while they were putting the bloodiest construction on these +inscriptions, their conference was interrupted by the return of Captain +Puffin in the highest spirits, who, after a vain search for the +challenge, was quite content, as its purport was no longer fraught with +danger and death, to suppose that he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +torn it up. Mrs. Gashly, therefore, after preparing breakfast at this +unusually early hour, went across to the back door of the Major’s +house, with the challenge in her hand, to borrow a nutmeg grater, and +gleaned the information that Mrs. Dominic’s employer (for master +he could not be called) had gone off in a great hurry to the station +early that morning with a Gladstone bag and a portmanteau, the latter of +which had been seen no more, though the Major had returned. So Mrs. +Gashly produced the challenge, and having watched Miss Mapp off to the +High Street at half-past ten, Dominic and Gashly went together to her +house, to see if Withers could supply anything of importance, or, if +not, a nutmeg grater. They were forced to be content with the grater, +but pored over the challenge with Withers, and she having an errand to +Diva’s house, told Janet, who without further ceremony bounded +upstairs to tell her mistress. Hardly had Diva heard, than she plunged +into the High Street, and, with suitable additions, told Miss Mapp, +Evie, Irene and the Padre under promise in each case, of the strictest +secrecy. Ten minutes later Irene had asked the defenceless Mr. Hopkins, +who was being Adam again, what he knew about it, and Evie, with her +mouse-like gait that looked so rapid and was so deliberate, had the +mortification of seeing Miss Mapp outdistance her and be admitted into +the Poppits’ house, just as she came in view of the front-door. +She rightly conjectured that, after the affair of the store-cupboard in +the garden-room, there could be nothing of lesser importance than +“the duel” which could take that lady through those abhorred +portals. Finally, at ten minutes past eleven, Major Flint and Captain +Puffin were seen by one or two fortunate people (the morning having +cleared up) walking together to the tram, and, without exception, +everybody knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +that they were on their way to fight their duel in some remote hollow of +the sand-dunes.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp had gone straight home from her visit to the Poppits just +about eleven, and stationed herself in the window where she could keep +an eye on the houses of the duellists. In her anxiety to outstrip Evie +and be the first to tell the Poppits, she had not waited to hear that +they had both come back and knew only of the challenge and that they had +gone to the station. She had already formed a glorious idea of her own +as to what the history of the duel (past or future) was, and intoxicated +with emotion had retired from the wordy fray to think about it, and, as +already mentioned, to keep an eye on the two houses just below. Then +there appeared in sight the Padre, walking swiftly up the hill, and she +had barely time under cover of the curtain to regain the table where her +sweet chrysanthemums were pining for water when Withers announced him. +He wore a furrowed brow and quite forgot to speak either Scotch or +Elizabethan English. A few rapid words made it clear that they both had +heard the main outlines.</p> + +<p>“A terrible situation,” said the Padre. “Duelling is +direct contravention of all Christian principles, and, I believe, of the +civil law. The discharge of a pistol, in unskilful hands, may lead to +deplorable results. And Major Flint, so one has heard, is an experienced +duellist… That, of course, makes it even more dangerous.”</p> + +<p>It was at this identical moment that Major Flint came out of his house +and qui-hied cheerily to Puffin. Miss Mapp and the Padre, deep in these +bloody possibilities, neither saw nor heard them. They passed together +down the road and into the High Street, unconscious that their very look +and action was being more commented on than the Epistle to the Hebrews. +Inside the garden-room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +Miss Mapp sighed, and bent her eyes on her chrysanthemums.</p> + +<p>“Quite terrible!” she said. “And in our peaceful, +tranquil Tilling!”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps the duel has already taken place, and—and +they’ve missed,” said the Padre. “They were both seen +to return to their houses early this morning.”</p> + +<p>“By whom?” asked Miss Mapp jealously. She had not heard +that.</p> + +<p>“By Hopkins,” said he. “Hopkins saw them both +return.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t trust that man too much,” said Miss Mapp. +“Hopkins may not be telling the truth. I have no great opinion of +his moral standard.”</p> + +<p>“Why is that?”</p> + +<p>This was no time to discuss the nudity of Hopkins and Miss Mapp put the +question aside.</p> + +<p>“That does not matter now, dear Padre,” she said. “I +only wish I thought the duel had taken place without accident. But Major +Benjy’s—I mean Major Flint’s—portmanteau has not +come back to his house. Of that I’m sure. What if they have sent +it away to some place where they are unknown, full of pistols and +things?”</p> + +<p>“Possible—terribly possible,” said the Padre. “I +wish I could see my duty clear. I should not hesitate to—well, to +do the best I could to induce them to abandon this murderous project. +And what do you imagine was the root of the quarrel?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t say, I’m sure,” said Miss Mapp. She +bent her head over the chrysanthemums.</p> + +<p>“Your distracting sex,” said he with a moment’s +gallantry, “is usually the cause of quarrel. I’ve noticed +that they both seemed to admire Miss Irene very much.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +Miss Mapp raised her head and spoke with great animation.</p> + +<p>“Dear, quaint Irene, I’m sure, has nothing whatever to do +with it,” she said with perfect truth. “Nothing +whatever!”</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking the sincerity of this, and the Padre, Tillingite +to the marrow, instantly concluded that Miss Mapp knew what (or who) was +the cause of all this unique disturbance. And as she bent her head again +over the chrysanthemums, and quite distinctly grew brick-red in the +face, he felt that delicacy prevented his inquiring any further.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do, dear Padre?” she asked in a low +voice, choking with emotion. “Whatever you decide will be wise and +Christian. Oh, these violent men! Such babies, too!”</p> + +<p>The Padre was bursting with curiosity, but since his delicacy forbade +him to ask any of the questions which effervesced like sherbet round his +tongue, he propounded another plan.</p> + +<p>“I think my duty is to go straight to the Major,” he said, +“who seems to be the principal in the affair, and tell him that I +know all—and guess the rest,” he added.</p> + +<p>“Nothing that I have said,” declared Miss Mapp in great +confusion, “must have anything to do with your guesses. Promise me +that, Padre.”</p> + +<p>This intimate and fruitful conversation was interrupted by the sound of +two pairs of steps just outside, and before Withers had had time to say +“Mrs. Plaistow,” Diva burst in.</p> + +<p>“They have both taken the 11.20 tram,” she said, and sank +into the nearest chair.</p> + +<p>“Together?” asked Miss Mapp, feeling a sudden chill<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +of disappointment at the thought of a duel with pistols trailing off +into one with golf clubs.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but that’s a blind,” panted Diva. “They +were talking and laughing together. Sheer blind! Duel among the +sand-dunes!”</p> + +<p>“Padre, it is your duty to stop it,” said Miss Mapp faintly.</p> + +<p>“But if the pistols are in a portmanteau——” he +began.</p> + +<p>“What portmanteau?” screamed Diva, who hadn’t heard +about that.</p> + +<p>“Darling, I’ll tell you presently,” said Miss Mapp. +“That was only a guess of mine, Padre. But there’s no time +to lose.”</p> + +<p>“But there’s no tram to catch,” said the Padre. +“It has gone by this time.”</p> + +<p>“A taxi then, Padre! Oh, lose no time!”</p> + +<p>“Are you coming with me?” he said in a low voice. +“Your presence——”</p> + +<p>“Better not,” she said. “It might—— Better +not,” she repeated.</p> + +<p>He skipped down the steps and was observed running down the street.</p> + +<p>“What about the portmanteau?” asked the greedy Diva.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>It was with strong misgivings that the Padre started on his Christian +errand, and had not the sense of adventure spiced it, he would probably +have returned to his sermon instead, which was Christian, too. To begin +with, there was the ruinous expense of taking a taxi out to the +golf-links, but by no other means could he hope to arrive in time to +avert an encounter that might be fatal. It must be said to his credit +that, though this was an errand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +distinctly due to his position as the spiritual head of Tilling, he +rejected, as soon as it occurred to him, the idea of charging the hire +of the taxi to Church Expenses, and as he whirled along the flat road +across the marsh, the thing that chiefly buoyed up his drooping spirits +and annealed his courage was the romantic nature of his mission. He no +longer, thanks to what Miss Mapp had so clearly refrained from saying, +had the slightest doubt that she, in some manner that scarcely needed +conjecture, was the cause of the duel he was attempting to avert. For +years it had been a matter of unwearied and confidential discussion as +to whether and when she would marry either Major Flint or Captain +Puffin, and it was superfluous to look for any other explanation. It was +true that she, in popular parlance, was “getting on,” but +so, too, and at exactly the same rate, were the representatives of the +United Services, and the sooner that two out of the three of them +“got on” permanently, the better. No doubt some crisis had +arisen, and inflamed with love… He intended to confide all this +to his wife on his return.</p> + +<p>On his return! The unspoken words made his heart sink. What if he never +did return? For he was about to place himself in a position of no common +danger. His plan was to drive past the club-house, and then on foot, +after discharging the taxi, to strike directly into the line of tumbled +sand-dunes which, remote and undisturbed and full of large convenient +hollows, stretched along the coast above the flat beach. Any of those +hollows, he knew, might prove to contain the duellists in the very act +of firing, and over the rim of each he had to pop his unprotected head. +He (if in time) would have to separate the combatants, and who knew +whether, in their very natural chagrin at being interrupted, they might +not turn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +their combined pistols on him first, and settle with each other +afterwards? One murder the more made little difference to desperate men. +Other shocks, less deadly but extremely unnerving, might await him. He +might be too late, and pop his head over the edge of one of these +craters, only to discover it full of bleeding if not mangled bodies. Or +there might be only one mangled body, and the other, unmangled, would +pursue him through the sand-dunes and offer him life at the price of +silence. That, he painfully reflected, would be a very difficult +decision to make. Luckily, Captain Puffin (if he proved to be the +survivor) was lame…</p> + +<p>With drawn face and agonized prayers on his lips, he began a systematic +search of the sand-dunes. Often his nerve nearly failed him, and he +would sink panting among the prickly bents before he dared to peer into +the hollow up the sides of which he had climbed. His ears shuddered at +the anticipation of hearing from near at hand the report of pistols, and +once a back-fire from a motor passing along the road caused him to leap +high in the air. The sides of these dunes were steep, and his shoes got +so full of sand, that from time to time, in spite of the urgency of his +errand, he was forced to pause in order to empty them out. He stumbled +in rabbit holes, he caught his foot and once his trousers in strands of +barbed wire, the remnant of coast defences in the Great War, he crashed +among potsherds and abandoned kettles; but with a thoroughness that did +equal credit to his wind and his Christian spirit, he searched a mile of +perilous dunes from end to end, and peered into every important hollow. +Two hours later, jaded and torn and streaming with perspiration, he +came, in the vicinity of the club-house, to the end of his fruitless +search.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +He staggered round the corner of it and came in view of the eighteenth +green. Two figures were occupying it, and one of these was in the act of +putting. He missed. Then he saw who the figures were: it was Captain +Puffin who had just missed his putt, it was Major Flint who now +expressed elated sympathy.</p> + +<p>“Bad luck, old boy,” he said. “Well, a jolly good +match and we halve it. Why, there’s the Padre. Been for a walk? +Join us in a round this afternoon, Padre! Blow your sermon!”</p> + +<hr /><h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p>The same delightful prospect at the end of the High Street, over the +marsh, which had witnessed not so long ago the final encounter in the +Wars of the Roses and the subsequent armistice, was, of course, found to +be peculiarly attractive that morning to those who knew (and who did +not?) that the combatants had left by the 11.20 steam-tram to fight +among the sand-dunes, and that the intrepid Padre had rushed after them +in a taxi. The Padre’s taxi had returned empty, and the driver +seemed to know nothing whatever about anything, so the only thing for +everybody to do was to put off lunch and wait for the arrival of the +next tram, which occurred at 1.37. In consequence, all the doors in +Tilling flew open like those of cuckoo clocks at ten minutes before that +hour, and this pleasant promenade was full of those who so keenly +admired autumn tints.</p> + +<p>From here the progress of the tram across the plain was in full view; +so, too, was the shed-like station across the river, which was the +terminus of the line, and expectation, when the two-waggoned little +train approached the end of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +its journey, was so tense that it was almost disagreeable. A couple of +hours had elapsed since, like the fishers who sailed away into the West +and were seen no more till the corpses lay out on the shining sand, the +three had left for the sand-dunes, and a couple of hours, so reasoned +the Cosmic Consciousness of Tilling, gave ample time for a duel to be +fought, if the Padre was not in time to stop it, and for him to stop it +if he was. No surgical assistance, as far as was known, had been +summoned, but the reason for that might easily be that a surgeon’s +skill was no longer, alas! of any avail for one, if not both, of the +combatants. But if such was the case, it was nice to hope that the Padre +had been in time to supply spiritual aid to anyone whom first-aid and +probes were powerless to succour.</p> + +<p>The variety of <i>dénouements</i> which the approaching tram, that had +now cut off steam, was capable of providing was positively bewildering. +They whirled through Miss Mapp’s head like the autumn leaves which +she admired so much, and she tried in vain to catch them all, and, when +caught, to tick them off on her fingers. Each, moreover, furnished +diverse and legitimate conclusions. For instance (taking the thumb)</p> + +<ul class='off hi'> +<li>I. If nobody of the slightest importance arrived by the tram, that might +be because + +<ul class='off hi'> +<li>(<i>a</i>) Nothing had happened, and they were all playing golf.</li> + +<li>(<i>b</i>) The worst had happened, and, as the Padre had feared, the +duellists had first shot him and then each other.</li> + +<li>(<i>c</i>) The next worst had happened, and the Padre was arranging for the +reverent removal of the corpse <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +of + +<ul class='off hi'> +<li>(i) Major Benjy, or</li> + +<li>(ii) Captain Puffin, or those of</li> + +<li>(iii) Both.</li></ul></li></ul></li></ul> + +<p>Miss Mapp let go of her thumb and lightly touched her forefinger.</p> + +<ul class='off'><li>II. The Padre might arrive alone.</li></ul> + +<p>In that case anything or nothing might have happened to either or both +of the others, and the various contingencies hanging on this arrival +were so numerous that there was not time to sort them out.</p> + +<ul class='off'> +<li>III. The Padre might arrive with two limping figures whom he assisted.</li> +</ul> + +<p>Here it must not be forgotten that Captain Puffin always limped, and the +Major occasionally. Miss Mapp did not forget it.</p> + +<ul class='off'> +<li>IV. The Padre might arrive with a stretcher. Query—Whose?</li> + +<li>V. The Padre might arrive with two stretchers.</li> + +<li>VI. Three stretchers might arrive from the shining sands, at the town +where the women were weeping and wringing their hands.</li></ul> + +<p>In that case Miss Mapp saw herself busily employed in strengthening poor +Evie, who now was running about like a mouse from group to group picking +up crumbs of Cosmic Consciousness.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp had got as far as sixthly, though she was aware she had not +exhausted the possibilities, when the tram stopped. She furtively took +out from her pocket (she had focussed them before she put them in) the +opera-glasses through which she had watched the station-yard on a day +which had been very much less exciting than this. After one glance she +put them back again, feeling vexed and disappointed with herself, for +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +<i>dénouement</i> which they had so unerringly disclosed was one that +had not entered her mind at all. In that moment she had seen that out of +the tram there stepped three figures and no stretcher. One figure, it is +true, limped, but in a manner so natural, that she scorned to draw any +deductions from that halting gait. They proceeded, side by side, across +the bridge over the river towards the town.</p> + +<p>It is no use denying that the Cosmic Consciousness of the ladies of +Tilling was aware of a disagreeable anti-climax to so many hopes and +fears. It had, of course, hoped for the best, but it had not expected +that the best would be quite as bad as this. The best, to put it +frankly, would have been a bandaged arm, or something of that kind. +There was still room for the more hardened optimist to hope that +something of some sort had occurred, or that something of some sort had +been averted, and that the whole affair was not, in the delicious new +slang phrase of the Padre’s, which was spreading like wildfire +through Tilling, a “wash-out.” Pistols might have been +innocuously discharged for all that was known to the contrary. But it +looked bad.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp was the first to recover from the blow, and took Diva’s +podgy hand.</p> + +<p>“Diva, darling,” she said, “I feel so deeply thankful. +What a wonderful and beautiful end to all our anxiety!”</p> + +<p>There was a subconscious regret with regard to the anxiety. The anxiety +was, so to speak, a dear and beloved departed… And Diva did not +feel so sure that the end was so beautiful and wonderful. Her +grandfather, Miss Mapp had reason to know, had been a butcher, and +probably some inherited indifference to slaughter lurked in her tainted +blood.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +“There’s the portmanteau still,” she said hopefully. +“Pistols in the portmanteau. Your idea, Elizabeth.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear,” said Elizabeth; “but thank God I must +have been very wrong about the portmanteau. The outside-porter told me +that he brought it up from the station to Major Benjy’s house half +an hour ago. Fancy your not knowing that! I feel sure he is a truthful +man, for he attends the Padre’s confirmation class. If there had +been pistols in it, Major Benjy and Captain Puffin would have gone away +too. I am quite happy about that now. It went away and it has come back. +That’s all about the portmanteau.”</p> + +<p>She paused a moment.</p> + +<p>“But what does it contain, then?” she said quickly, more as +if she was thinking aloud than talking to Diva. “Why did Major +Benjy pack it and send it to the station this morning? Where has it come +back from? Why did it go there?”</p> + +<p>She felt that she was saying too much, and pressed her hand to her head.</p> + +<p>“Has all this happened this morning?” she said. “What +a full morning, dear! Lovely autumn leaves! I shall go home and have my +lunch and rest. Au reservoir, Diva.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp’s eternal reservoirs had begun to get on Diva’s +nerves, and as she lingered here a moment more a great idea occurred to +her, which temporarily banished the disappointment about the duellists. +Elizabeth, as all the world knew, had accumulated a great reservoir of +provisions in the false book-case in her garden-room, and Diva +determined that, if she could think of a neat phrase, the very next time +Elizabeth said <i>au reservoir</i> to her, she would work in an allusion to +Elizabeth’s own reservoir<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +of corned beef, tongue, flour, bovril, dried apricots and condensed +milk. She would have to frame some stinging rejoinder which would +“escape her” when next Elizabeth used that stale old phrase: +it would have to be short, swift and spontaneous, and therefore required +careful thought. It would be good to bring “pop” into it +also. “Your reservoir in the garden-room hasn’t gone +‘pop’ again, I hope, darling?” was the first draft +that occurred to her, but that was not sufficiently condensed. +“Pop goes the reservoir,” on the analogy of the weasel, was +better. And, better than either, was there not some sort of corn called +pop-corn, which Americans ate?… “Have you any pop-corn in +your reservoir?” That would be a nasty one…</p> + +<p>But it all required thinking over, and the sight of the Padre and the +duellists crossing the field below, as she still lingered on this +escarpment of the hill, brought the duel back to her mind. It would have +been considered inquisitive even at Tilling to put direct questions to +the combatants, and (still hoping for the best) ask them point-blank +“Who won?” or something of that sort; but until she arrived +at some sort of information, the excruciating pangs of curiosity that +must be endured could be likened only to some acute toothache of the +mind with no dentist to stop or remove the source of the trouble. +Elizabeth had already succumbed to these pangs of surmise and +excitement, and had frankly gone home to rest, and her absence, the fact +that for the next hour or two she could not, except by some +extraordinary feat on the telephone, get hold of anything which would +throw light on the whole prodigious situation, inflamed Diva’s +brain to the highest pitch of inventiveness. She knew that she was +Elizabeth’s inferior in point of reconstructive imagination,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +and the present moment, while the other was recuperating her energies +for fresh assaults on the unknown, was Diva’s opportunity. The one +person who might be presumed to know more than anybody else was the +Padre, but while he was with the duellists, it was as impossible to ask +him what had happened as to ask the duellists who had won. She must, +while Miss Mapp rested, get hold of the Padre without the duellists.</p> + +<p>Even as Athene sprang full grown and panoplied from the brain of Zeus, +so from Diva’s brain there sprang her plan complete. She even +resisted the temptation to go on admiring autumn tints, in order to see +how the interesting trio “looked” when, as they must +presently do, they passed close to where she stood, and hurried home, +pausing only to purchase, pay for, and carry away with her from the +provision shop a large and expensively-dressed crab, a dainty of which +the Padre was inordinately fond. Ruinous as this was, there was a note +of triumph in her voice when, on arrival, she called loudly for Janet, +and told her to lay another place at the luncheon table. Then putting a +strong constraint on herself, she waited three minutes by her watch, in +order to give the Padre time to get home, and then rang him up and +reminded him that he had promised to lunch with her that day. It was no +use asking him to lunch in such a way that he might refuse: she employed +without remorse this pitiless <i>force majeure</i>.</p> + +<p>The engagement was short and brisk. He pleaded that not even now could +he remember even having been asked (which was not surprising), and said +that he and wee wifie had begun lunch. On which Diva unmasked her last +gun, and told him that she had ordered a crab on purpose. That silenced +further argument, and he said that he and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +wee wifie would be round in a jiffy, and rang off. She did not +particularly want wee wifie, but there was enough crab.</p> + +<p>Diva felt that she had never laid out four shillings to better purpose, +when, a quarter of an hour later, the Padre gave her the full account of +his fruitless search among the sand-dunes, so deeply impressive was his +sense of being buoyed up to that incredibly fatiguing and perilous +excursion by some Power outside himself. It never even occurred to her +to think that it was an elaborate practical joke on the part of the +Power outside himself, to spur him on to such immense exertions to no +purpose at all. He had only got as far as this over his interrupted +lunch with wee wifie, and though she, too, was in agonized suspense as +to what happened next, she bore the repetition with great equanimity, +only making small mouse-like noises of impatience which nobody heard. He +was quite forgetting to speak either Scotch or Elizabethan English, so +obvious was the absorption of his hearers, without these added aids to +command attention.</p> + +<p>“And then I came round the corner of the club-house,” he +said, “and there were Captain Puffin and the Major finishing their +match on the eighteenth hole.”</p> + +<p>“Then there’s been no duel at all,” said Diva, +scraping the shell of the crab.</p> + +<p>“I feel sure of it. There wouldn’t have been time for a duel +and a round of golf, in addition to the impossibility of playing golf +immediately after a duel. No nerves could stand it. Besides, I asked one +of their caddies. They had come straight from the tram to the +club-house, and from the club-house to the first tee. They had not been +alone for a moment.”</p> + +<p>“Wash-out,” said Diva, wondering whether this had been worth +four shillings, so tame was the conclusion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +Mrs. Bartlett gave a little squeak which was her preliminary to speech.</p> + +<p>“But I do not see why there may not be a duel yet, Kenneth,” +she said. “Because they did not fight this morning—excellent +crab, dear Diva, so good of you to ask us—there’s no reason +why there shouldn’t be a duel this afternoon. O dear me, and cold +beef as well: I shall be quite stuffed. Depend upon it a man +doesn’t take the trouble to write a challenge and all that, unless +he means business.”</p> + +<p>The Padre held up his hand. He felt that he was gradually growing to be +the hero of the whole affair. He had certainly looked over the edge of +numberless hollows in the sand-dunes with vivid anticipations of having +a bullet whizz by him on each separate occasion. It behoved him to take +a sublime line.</p> + +<p>“My dear,” he said, “business is hardly a word to +apply to murder. That within the last twenty-four hours there was the +intention of fighting a duel, I don’t deny. But something has +decidedly happened which has averted that deplorable calamity. Peace and +reconciliation is the result of it, and I have never seen two men so +unaffectedly friendly.”</p> + +<p>Diva got up and whirled round the table to get the port for the Padre, +so pleased was she at a fresh idea coming to her while still dear +Elizabeth was resting. She attributed it to the crab.</p> + +<p>“We’ve all been on a false scent,” she said. +“Peace and reconciliation happened before they went out to the +sand-dunes at all. It happened at the station. They met at the station, +you know. It is proved that Major Flint went there. Major wouldn’t +send portmanteau off alone. And it’s proved that Captain Puffin +went there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +too, because the note which his housemaid found on the table before she +saw the challenge from the Major, which was on the chimney-piece, said +that he had been called away very suddenly. No: they both went to catch +the early train in order to go away before they could be stopped, and +kill each other. But why didn’t they go? What happened? +Don’t suppose the outside porter showed them how wicked they were, +confirmation-class or no confirmation-class. Stumps me. Almost wish +Elizabeth was here. She’s good at guessing.”</p> + +<p>The Padre’s eye brightened. Reaction after the perils of the +morning, crab and port combined to make a man of him.</p> + +<p>“Eh, ’tis a bonny wee drappie of port whatever, Mistress +Plaistow,” he said. “And I dinna ken that ye’re far +wrang in jaloosing that Mistress Mapp might have a wee bitty word to say +aboot it a’, ’gin she had the mind.”</p> + +<p>“She was wrong about the portmanteau,” said Diva. +“Confessed she was wrong.”</p> + +<p>“Hoots! I’m not mindin’ the bit pochmantie,” +said the Padre.</p> + +<p>“What else does she know?” asked Diva feverishly.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt that the Padre had the fullest attention of the two +ladies again, and there was no need to talk Scotch any more.</p> + +<p>“Begin at the beginning,” he said. “What do we suppose +was the cause of the quarrel?”</p> + +<p>“Anything,” said Diva. “Golf, tiger-skins, +coal-strike, summer-time.”</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I grant you words may pass on such subjects,” he said. +“We feel keenly, I know, about summer-time in Tilling, though we +shall all be reconciled over that next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +Sunday, when real time, God’s time, as I am venturing to call it +in my sermon, comes in again.”</p> + +<p>Diva had to bite her tongue to prevent herself bolting off on this new +scent. After all, she had invested in crab to learn about duelling, not +about summer-time.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she said.</p> + +<p>“We may have had words on that subject,” said the Padre, +booming as if he was in the pulpit already, “but we should, I +hope, none of us go so far as to catch the earliest train with pistols, +in defence of our conviction about summer-time. No, Mrs. Plaistow, if +you are right, and there is something to be said for your view, in +thinking that they both went to such lengths as to be in time for the +early train, in order to fight a duel undisturbed, you must look for a +more solid cause than that.”</p> + +<p>Diva vainly racked her brains to think of anything more worthy of the +highest pitches of emotion than this. If it had been she and Miss Mapp +who had been embroiled, hoarding and dress would have occurred to her. +But as it was, no one in his senses could dream that the Captain and the +Major were sartorial rivals, unless they had quarrelled over the +question as to which of them wore the snuffiest old clothes.</p> + +<p>“Give it up,” she said. “What did they quarrel +about?”</p> + +<p>“Passion!” said the Padre, in those full, deep tones in +which next Sunday he would allude to God’s time. “I do not +mean anger, but the flame that exalts man to heaven or—or does +exactly the opposite!”</p> + +<p>“But whomever for?” asked Diva, quite thrown off her +bearings. Such a thing had never occurred to her, for, as far as she was +aware, passion, except in the sense of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +temper, did not exist in Tilling. Tilling was far too respectable.</p> + +<p>The Padre considered this a moment.</p> + +<p>“I am betraying no confidence,” he said, “because no +one has confided in me. But there certainly is a lady in this +town—I do not allude to Miss Irene—who has long enjoyed the +Major’s particular esteem. May not some deprecating +remark——”</p> + +<p>Wee wifie gave a much louder squeal than usual.</p> + +<p>“He means poor Elizabeth,” she said in a high, tremulous +voice. “Fancy, Kenneth!”</p> + +<p>Diva, a few seconds before, had seen no reason why the Padre should +drink the rest of her port, and was now in the act of drinking some of +that unusual beverage herself. She tried to swallow it, but it was too +late, and next moment all the openings in her face were fountains of +that delicious wine. She choked and she gurgled, until the last drop had +left her windpipe—under the persuasion of pattings on the back +from the others—and then she gave herself up to loud, hoarse +laughter, through which there shrilled the staccato squeaks of wee +wifie. Nothing, even if you are being laughed at yourself, is so +infectious as prolonged laughter, and the Padre felt himself forced to +join it. When one of them got a little better, a relapse ensued by +reason of infection from the others, and it was not till exhaustion set +in, that this triple volcano became quiescent again.</p> + +<p>“Only fancy!” said Evie faintly. “How did such an idea +get into your head, Kenneth?”</p> + +<p>His voice shook as he answered.</p> + +<p>“Well, we were all a little worked up this morning,” he +said. “The idea—really, I don’t know what we have all +been laughing at——”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +“I do,” said Diva. “Go on. About the +idea——”</p> + +<p>A feminine, a diabolical inspiration flared within wee wifie’s +mind.</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth suggested it herself,” she squealed.</p> + +<p>Naturally Diva could not help remembering that she had found Miss Mapp +and the Padre in earnest conversation together when she forced her way +in that morning with the news that the duellists had left by the 11.20 +tram. Nobody could be expected to have so short a memory as to have +forgotten <i>that</i>. Just now she forgave Elizabeth for anything she had +ever done. That might have to be reconsidered afterwards, but at present +it was valid enough.</p> + +<p>“Did she suggest it?” she asked.</p> + +<p>The Padre behaved like a man, and lied like Ananias.</p> + +<p>“Most emphatically she did not,” he said.</p> + +<p>The disappointment would have been severe, had the two ladies believed +this confident assertion, and Diva pictured a delightful interview with +Elizabeth, in which she would suddenly tell her the wild surmise the +Padre had made with regard to the cause of the duel, and see how she +looked then. Just see how she looked then: that was +all—self-consciousness and guilt would fly their colours…</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Miss Mapp had been tempted when she went home that morning, after +enjoying the autumn tints, to ask Diva to lunch with her, but remembered +in time that she had told her cook to broach one of the tins of +corned-beef which no human wizard could coax into the store-cupboard +again, if he shut the door after it. Diva would have been sure to say +something acid and allusive, to remark on its excellence being happily +not wasted on the poor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +people in the hospital, or, if she had not said anything at all about +it, her silence as she ate a great deal would have had a sharp flavour. +But Miss Mapp would have liked, especially when she went to take her +rest afterwards on the big sofa in the garden-room, to have had somebody +to talk to, for her brain seethed with conjectures as to what had +happened, was happening and would happen, and discussion was the best +method of simplifying a problem, of narrowing it down to the limits of +probability, whereas when she was alone now with her own imaginings, the +most fantastic of them seemed plausible. She had, however, handed a +glorious suggestion to the Padre, the one, that is, which concerned the +cause of the duel, and it had been highly satisfactory to observe the +sympathy and respect with which he had imbibed it. She had, too, been so +discreet about it; she had not come within measurable distance of +asserting that the challenge had been in any way connected with her. She +had only been very emphatic on the point of its not being connected with +poor dear Irene, and then occupied herself with her sweet flowers. That +had been sufficient, and she felt in her bones and marrow that he +inferred what she had meant him to infer…</p> + +<p>The vulture of surmise ceased to peck at her for a few moments as she +considered this, and followed up a thread of gold… Though the +Padre would surely be discreet, she hoped that he would “let +slip” to dear Evie in the course of the vivid conversation they +would be sure to have over lunch, that he had a good guess as to the +cause which had led to that savage challenge. Upon which dear Evie would +be certain to ply him with direct squeaks and questions, and when she +“got hot” (as in animal, vegetable and mineral) his +reticence would lead her to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +make a good guess too. She might be incredulous, but there the idea +would be in her mind, while if she felt that these stirring days were no +time for scepticism, she could hardly fail to be interested and touched. +Before long (how soon Miss Mapp was happily not aware) she would +“pop in” to see Diva, or Diva would “pop in” to +see her, and, Evie observing a discretion similar to that of the Padre +and herself, would soon enable dear Diva to make a good guess too. After +that, all would be well, for dear Diva (“such a gossiping +darling”) would undoubtedly tell everybody in Tilling, under vows +of secrecy (so that she should have the pleasure of telling everybody +herself) just what her good guess was. Thus, very presently, all Tilling +would know exactly that which Miss Mapp had not said to the dear Padre, +namely, that the duel which had been fought (or which hadn’t been +fought) was “all about” her. And the best of it was, that +though everybody knew, it would still be a great and beautiful secret, +reposing inviolably in every breast or chest, as the case might be. She +had no anxiety about anybody asking direct questions of the duellists, +for if duelling, for years past, had been a subject which no +delicately-minded person alluded to purposely in Major Benjy’s +presence, how much more now after this critical morning would that +subject be taboo? That certainly was a good thing, for the duellists if +closely questioned might have a different explanation, and it would be +highly inconvenient to have two contradictory stories going about. But, +as it was, nothing could be nicer: the whole of the rest of Tilling, +under promise of secrecy, would know, and even if under further promises +of secrecy they communicated their secret to each other, there would be +no harm done…</p> + +<p>After this excursion into Elysian fields, poor Miss Mapp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +had to get back to her vulture again, and the hour’s rest that she +had felt was due to herself as the heroine of a duel became a period of +extraordinary cerebral activity. Puzzle as she might, she could make +nothing whatever of the portmanteau and the excursion to the early +train, and she got up long before her hour was over, since she found +that the more she thought, the more invincible were the objections to +any conclusion that she drowningly grasped at. Whatever attack she made +on this mystery, the garrison failed to march out and surrender but kept +their flag flying, and her conjectures were woefully blasted by the +forces of the most elementary reasons. But as the agony of suspense, if +no fresh topic of interest intervened, would be frankly unendurable, she +determined to concentrate no more on it, but rather to commit it to the +ice-house or safe of her subconscious mind, from which at will, when she +felt refreshed and reinvigorated, she could unlock it and examine it +again. The whole problem was more superlatively baffling than any that +she could remember having encountered in all these inquisitive years, +just as the subject of it was more majestic than any, for it concerned +not hoarding, nor visits of the Prince of Wales, nor poppy-trimmed +gowns, but life and death and firing of deadly pistols. And should love +be added to this august list? Certainly not by her, though Tilling might +do what it liked. In fact Tilling always did.</p> + +<p>She walked across to the bow-window from which she had conducted so many +exciting and successful investigations. But to-day the view seemed as +stale and unprofitable as the world appeared to Hamlet, even though Mrs. +Poppit at that moment went waddling down the street and disappeared +round the corner where the dentist and Mr. Wyse lived. With a sense of +fatigue Miss Mapp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +recalled the fact that she had seen the housemaid cleaning Mr. +Wyse’s windows yesterday—(“Children dear, was it +yesterday?”)—and had noted her industry, and drawn from it +the irresistible conclusion that Mr. Wyse was probably expected home. He +usually came back about mid-October, and let slip allusions to his +enjoyable visits in Scotland and his <i>villeggiatura</i> (so he was pleased +to express it) with his sister the Contessa di Faraglione at Capri. That +Contessa Faraglione was rather a mythical personage to Miss Mapp’s +mind: she was certainly not in a mediæval copy of +“Who’s Who?” which was the only accessible handbook in +matters relating to noble and notable personages, and though Miss Mapp +would not have taken an oath that she did not exist, she saw no strong +reason for supposing that she did. Certainly she had never been to +Tilling, which was strange as her brother lived there, and there was +nothing but her brother’s allusions to certify her. About Mrs. +Poppit now: had she gone to see Mr. Wyse or had she gone to the dentist? +One or other it must be, for apart from them that particular street +contained nobody who counted, and at the bottom it simply conducted you +out into the uneventful country. Mrs. Poppit was all dressed up, and she +would never walk in the country in such a costume. It would do either +for Mr. Wyse or the dentist, for she was the sort of woman who would +like to appear grand in the dentist’s chair, so that he might be +shy of hurting such a fine lady. Then again, Mrs. Poppit had wonderful +teeth, almost too good to be true, and before now she had asked who +lived at that pretty little house just round the corner, as if to show +that she didn’t know where the dentist lived! Or had she found out +by some underhand means that Mr. Wyse had come back, and had gone to +call on him and give him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +the first news of the duel, and talk to him about Scotland? Very likely +they had neither of them been to Scotland at all: they conspired to say +that they had been to Scotland and stayed at shooting-lodges +(keepers’ lodges more likely) in order to impress Tilling with +their magnificence…</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp sat down on the central-heating pipes in her window, and fell +into one of her reconstructive musings. Partly, if Mr. Wyse was back, it +was well just to run over his record; partly she wanted to divert her +mind from the two houses just below, that of Major Benjy on the one side +and that of Captain Puffin on the other, which contained the key to the +great, insoluble mystery, from conjecture as to which she wanted to +obtain relief. Mr. Wyse, anyhow, would serve as a mild opiate, for she +had never lost an angry interest in him. Though he was for eight months +of the year, or thereabouts, in Tilling, he was never, for a single +hour, <i>of</i> Tilling. He did not exactly invest himself with an air of +condescension and superiority—Miss Mapp did him that +justice—but he made other people invest him with it, so that it +came to the same thing: he was invested. He did not drag the fact of his +sister being the Contessa Faraglione into conversation, but if talk +turned on sisters, and he was asked about his, he confessed to her +nobility. The same phenomenon appeared when the innocent county of +Hampshire was mentioned, for it turned out that he knew the county well, +being one of the Wyses of Whitchurch. You couldn’t say he talked +about it, but he made other people talk about it… He was quite +impervious to satire on such points, for when, goaded to madness, Miss +Mapp had once said that she was one of the Mapps of Maidstone, he had +merely bowed and said: “A very old family, I believe,” +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +when the conversation branched off on to old families he had rather +pointedly said “we” to Miss Mapp. So poor Miss Mapp was +sorry she had been satirical… But for some reason, Tilling never +ceased to play up to Mr. Wyse, and there was not a tea-party or a +bridge-party given during the whole period of his residence there to +which he was not invited. Hostesses always started with him, sending him +round a note with “To await answer,” written in the top +left-hand corner, since he had clearly stated that he considered the +telephone an undignified instrument only fit to be used for household +purposes, and had installed his in the kitchen, in the manner of the +Wyses of Whitchurch. That alone, apart from Mr. Wyse’s +old-fashioned notions on the subject, made telephoning impossible, for +your summons was usually answered by his cook, who instantly began +scolding the butcher irrespective and disrespectful of whom you were. +When her mistake was made known to her, she never apologized, but +grudgingly said she would call Mr. Figgis, who was Mr. Wyse’s +valet. Mr. Figgis always took a long time in coming, and when he came he +sneezed or did something disagreeable and said: "Yes, yes; what is +it?” in a very testy manner. After explanations he would consent +to tell his master, which took another long time, and even then Mr. Wyse +did not come himself, and usually refused the proffered invitation. Miss +Mapp had tried the expedient of sending Withers to the telephone when +she wanted to get at Mr. Wyse, but this had not succeeded, for Withers +and Mr. Wyse’s cook quarrelled so violently before they got to +business that Mr. Figgis had to calm the cook and Withers to complain to +Miss Mapp… This, in brief, was the general reason why Tilling +sent notes to Mr. Wyse. As for chatting through the telephone, which was +the main<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +use of telephones, the thing was quite out of the question.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp revived a little as she made this piercing analysis of Mr. +Wyse, and the warmth of the central heating pipes, on this baffling day +of autumn tints, was comforting… No one could say that Mr. Wyse +was not punctilious in matters of social etiquette, for though he +refused three-quarters of the invitations which were showered on him, he +invariably returned the compliment by an autograph note hoping that he +might have the pleasure of entertaining you at lunch on Thursday next, +for he always gave a small luncheon-party on Thursday. These invitations +were couched in Chesterfield-terms: Mr. Wyse said that he had met a +mutual friend just now who had informed him that you were in residence, +and had encouraged him to hope that you might give him the pleasure of +your company, etc. This was alluring diction: it presented the image of +Mr. Wyse stepping briskly home again, quite heartened up by this chance +encounter, and no longer the prey to melancholy at the thought that you +might not give him the joy. He was encouraged to hope… These +polite expressions were traced in a neat upright hand on paper which, +when he had just come back from Italy, often bore a coronet on the top +with “Villa Faraglione, Capri” printed on the right-hand top +corner and “Amelia” (the name of his putative sister) in +sprawling gilt on the left, the whole being lightly erased. Of course he +was quite right to filch a few sheets, but it threw rather a lurid light +on his character that they should be such grand ones.</p> + +<p>Last year only, in a fit of passion at Mr. Wyse having refused six +invitations running on the plea of other engagements, Miss Mapp had +headed a movement, the object<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +of which was that Tilling should not accept any of Mr. Wyse’s +invitations unless he accepted its. This had met with theoretical +sympathy; the Bartletts, Diva, Irene, the Poppits had all +agreed—rather absently—that it would be a very proper thing +to do, but the very next Thursday they had all, including the +originator, met on Mr. Wyse’s doorstep for a luncheon-party, and +the movement then and there collapsed. Though they all protested and +rebelled against such a notion, the horrid fact remained that everybody +basked in Mr. Wyse’s effulgence whenever it was disposed to shed +itself on them. Much as they distrusted the information they dragged out +of him, they adored hearing about the Villa Faraglione, and dressed +themselves in their very best clothes to do so. Then again there was the +quality of the lunch itself: often there was caviare, and it was +impossible (though the interrogator who asked whether it came from +Twemlow’s feared the worst) not to be mildly excited to know, when +Mr. Wyse referred the question to Figgis, that the caviare had arrived +from Odessa that morning. The haunch of roe-deer came from Perthshire; +the wine, on the subject of which the Major could not be silent, and +which often made him extremely talkative, was from “my +brother-in-law’s vineyard.” And Mr. Wyse would taste it with +the air of a connoisseur and say: “Not quite as good as last year: +I must tell the Cont—— I mean my sister.”</p> + +<p>Again when Mr. Wyse did condescend to honour a tea-party or a +bridge-party, Tilling writhed under the consciousness that their general +deportment was quite different from that which they ordinarily practised +among themselves. There was never any squabbling at Mr. Wyse’s +table, and such squabbling as took place at the other tables<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +was conducted in low hissings and whispers, so that Mr. Wyse should not +hear. Diva never haggled over her gains or losses when he was there, the +Padre never talked Scotch or Elizabethan English. Evie never squeaked +like a mouse, no shrill recriminations or stately sarcasms took place +between partners, and if there happened to be a little disagreement +about the rules, Mr. Wyse’s decision, though he was not a better +player than any of them, was accepted without a murmur. At intervals for +refreshment, in the same way, Diva no longer filled her mouth and both +hands with nougat-chocolate; there was no scrambling or jostling, but +the ladies were waited on by the gentlemen, who then refreshed +themselves. And yet Mr. Wyse in no way asserted himself, or reduced them +all to politeness by talking about the polished manners of Italians; it +was Tilling itself which chose to behave in this unusual manner in his +presence. Sometimes Diva might forget herself for a moment, and address +something withering to her partner, but the partner never replied in +suitable terms, and Diva became honey-mouthed again. It was, indeed, if +Mr. Wyse had appeared at two or three parties, rather a relief not to +find him at the next, and breathe freely in less rarefied air. But +whether he came or not he always returned the invitation by one to a +Thursday luncheon-party, and thus the high circles of Tilling met every +week at his house.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp came to the end of this brief retrospect, and determined, when +once it was proved that Mr. Wyse had arrived, to ask him to tea on +Tuesday. That would mean lunch with him on Thursday, and it was +unnecessary to ask anybody else unless Mr. Wyse accepted. If he refused, +there would be no tea-party… But, after the events of the last +twenty-four hours, there was no vividness in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +these plans and reminiscences, and her eye turned to the profile of the +Colonel’s house.</p> + +<p>“The portmanteau,” she said to herself… No: she must +take her mind off that subject. She would go for a walk, not into the +High Street, but into the quiet level country, away from the turmoil of +passion (in the Padre’s sense) and quarrels (in her own), where +she could cool her curiosity and her soul with contemplation of the +swallows and the white butterflies (if they had not all been killed by +the touch of frost last night) and the autumn tints of which there were +none whatever in the treeless marsh… Decidedly the shortest way +out of the town was that which led past Mr. Wyse’s house. But +before leaving the garden-room she practised several faces at the +looking-glass opposite the door, which should suitably express, if she +met anybody to whom the cause of the challenge was likely to have +spread, the bewildering emotion which the unwilling cause of it must +feel. There must be a wistful wonder, there must be a certain pride, +there must be the remains of romantic excitement, and there must be deep +womanly anxiety. The carriage of the head “did” the pride, +the wide-open eyes “did” the wistful wonder and the romance, +the deep womanly anxiety lurked in the tremulous smile, and a violent +rubbing of the cheeks produced the colour of excitement. In answer to +any impertinent questions, if she encountered such, she meant to give an +absent answer, as if she had not understood. Thus equipped she set +forth.</p> + +<p>It was rather disappointing to meet nobody, but as she passed Mr. +Wyse’s bow-window she adjusted the chrysanthemums she wore, and +she had a good sight of his profile and the back of Mrs. Poppit’s +head. They appeared deep in conversation, and Miss Mapp felt that the +tiresome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +woman was probably giving him a very incomplete account of what had +happened. She returned late for tea, and broke off her apologies to +Withers for being such a trouble because she saw a note on the hall +table. There was a coronet on the back of the envelope, and it was +addressed in the neat, punctilious hand which so well expressed its +writer. Villa Faraglione, Capri, a coronet and Amelia all lightly +crossed out headed the page, and she read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sc">“Dear Miss Mapp,</p> + +<p>“It is such a pleasure to find myself in our little Tilling again, +and our mutual friend Mrs. Poppit, M.B.E., tells me you are in +residence, and encourages me to hope that I may induce you to take +<i>déjeuner</i> with me on Thursday, at one o’clock. May I +assure you, with all delicacy, that you will not meet here anyone whose +presence could cause you the slightest embarrassment?</p> + +<p>“Pray excuse this hasty note. Figgis will wait for your answer if +you are in.</p> + +<p><span class='ralign'>“Yours very sincerely,</span><br /></p> +<p><span class="ralign sc">“Algernon Wyse.”</span><br /></p> +</div> + +<p>Had not Withers been present, who might have misconstrued her action, +Miss Mapp would have kissed the note; failing that, she forgave Mrs. +Poppit for being an M.B.E.</p> + +<p>“The dear woman!” she said. “She has heard, and has +told him.”</p> + +<p>Of course she need not ask Mr. Wyse to tea now…</p> + +<hr /><h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p>A white frost on three nights running and a terrible blackening of +dahlias, whose reputation was quite gone by morning, would probably have +convinced the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +ladies of Tilling that it was time to put summer clothing in camphor and +winter clothing in the back-yard to get aired, even if the Padre had not +preached that remarkable sermon on Sunday. It was so remarkable that +Miss Mapp quite forgot to note grammatical lapses and listened +entranced.</p> + +<p>The text was, “He made summer and winter,” and after +repeating the words very impressively, so that there might be no mistake +about the origin of the seasons, the Padre began to talk about something +quite different—namely, the unhappy divisions which exist in +Christian communities. That did not deceive Miss Mapp for a moment: she +saw precisely what he was getting at over his oratorical fences. He got +at it…</p> + +<p>Ever since Summer-time had been inaugurated a few years before, it had +been one of the chronic dissensions of Tilling. Miss Mapp, Diva and the +Padre flatly refused to recognize it, except when they were going by +train or tram, when principle must necessarily go to the wall, or they +would never have succeeded in getting anywhere, while Miss Mapp, with +the halo of martyrdom round her head, had once arrived at a Summer-time +party an hour late, in order to bear witness to the truth, and, in +consequence, had got only dregs of tea and the last faint strawberry. +But the Major and Captain Puffin used the tram so often, that they had +fallen into the degrading habit of dislocating their clocks and watches +on the first of May, and dislocating them again in the autumn, when they +were forced into uniformity with properly-minded people. Irene was +flippant on the subject, and said that any old time would do for her. +The Poppits followed convention, and Mrs. Poppit, in naming the hour for +a party to the stalwarts, wrote “4.30 (your 3.30).” The +King,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +after all, had invited her to be decorated at a particular hour, +summer-time, and what was good enough for the King was good enough for +Mrs. Poppit.</p> + +<p>The sermon was quite uncompromising. There was summer and winter, by +Divine ordinance, but there was nothing said about summer-time and +winter-time. There was but one Time, and even as Life only stained the +white radiance of eternity, as the gifted but, alas! infidel poet +remarked, so, too, did Time. But ephemeral as Time was, noon in the +Bible clearly meant twelve o’clock, and not one o’clock: +towards even, meant towards even, and not the middle of a broiling +afternoon. The sixth hour similarly was the Roman way of saying twelve. +Winter-time, in fact, was God’s time, and though there was nothing +wicked (far from it) in adopting strange measures, yet the simple, the +childlike, clung to the sacred tradition, which they had received from +their fathers and forefathers at their mother’s knee. Then +followed a long and eloquent passage, which recapitulated the opening +about unhappy divisions, and contained several phrases, regarding the +lengths to which such divisions might go, which were strikingly +applicable to duelling. The peroration recapitulated the recapitulation, +in case anyone had missed it, and the coda, the close itself, in the +full noon of the winter sun, was full of joy at the healing of all such +unhappy divisions. And now… The rain rattling against the windows +drowned the Doxology.</p> + +<p>The doctrine was so much to her mind that Miss Mapp gave a shilling to +the offertory instead of her usual sixpence, to be devoted to the +organist and choir fund. The Padre, it is true, had changed the hour of +services to suit the heresy of the majority, and this for a moment made +her hand falter. But the hope, after this convincing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +sermon, that next year morning service would be at the hour falsely +called twelve decided her not to withdraw this handsome contribution.</p> + +<p>Frosts and dead dahlias and sermons then were together overwhelmingly +convincing, and when Miss Mapp went out on Monday morning to do her +shopping, she wore a tweed skirt and jacket, and round her neck a long +woollen scarf to mark the end of the summer. Mrs. Poppit, alone in her +disgusting ostentation, had seemed to think two days ago that it was +cold enough for furs, and she presented a truly ridiculous aspect in an +enormous sable coat, under the weight of which she could hardly stagger, +and stood rooted to the spot when she stepped out of the Royce. Brisk +walking and large woollen scarves saved the others from feeling the cold +and from being unable to move, and this morning the High Street was +dazzling with the shifting play of bright colours. There was quite a +group of scarves at the corner, where Miss Mapp’s street debouched +into the High Street: Irene was there (for it was probably too cold for +Mr. Hopkins that morning), looking quainter than ever in corduroys and +mauve stockings with an immense orange scarf bordered with pink. Diva +was there, wound up in so delicious a combination of rose-madder and +Cambridge blue, that Miss Mapp, remembering the history of the +rose-madder, had to remind herself how many things there were in the +world more important than worsted. Evie was there in vivid green with a +purple border, the Padre had a knitted magenta waistcoat, and Mrs. +Poppit that great sable coat which almost prevented movement. They were +all talking together in a very animated manner when first Miss Mapp came +in sight, and if, on her approach, conversation seemed to wither, they +all wore, besides their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +scarves, very broad, pleasant smiles. Miss Mapp had a smile, too, as +good as anybody’s.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, all you dear things,” she said. “How +lovely you all look—just like a bed of delicious flowers! Such +nice colours! My poor dahlias are all dead.”</p> + +<p>Quaint Irene uttered a hoarse laugh, and, swinging her basket, went +quickly away. She often did abrupt things like that. Miss Mapp turned to +the Padre.</p> + +<p>“Dear Padre, what a delicious sermon!” she said. “So +glad you preached it! Such a warning against all sorts of +divisions!”</p> + +<p>The Padre had to compose his face before he responded to these +compliments.</p> + +<p>“I’m reecht glad, fair lady,” he replied, “that +my bit discourse was to your mind. Come, wee wifie, we must be +stepping.”</p> + +<p>Quite suddenly all the group, with the exception of Mrs. Poppit, melted +away. Wee wifie gave a loud squeal, as if to say something, but her +husband led her firmly off, while Diva, with rapidly revolving feet, +sped like an arrow up the centre of the High Street.</p> + +<p>“Such a lovely morning!” said Miss Mapp to Mrs. Poppit, when +there was no one else to talk to. “And everyone looks so pleased +and happy, and all in such a hurry, busy as bees, to do their little +businesses. Yes.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Poppit began to move quietly away with the deliberate, +tortoise-like progression necessitated by the fur coat. It struck Miss +Mapp that she, too, had intended to take part in the general breaking up +of the group, but had merely been unable to get under way as fast as the +others.</p> + +<p>“Such a lovely fur coat,” said Miss Mapp sycophantically. +“Such beautiful long fur! And what is the news this morning? Has a +little bird been whispering anything?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +“Nothing,” said Mrs. Poppit very decidedly, and having now +sufficient way on to turn, she went up the street down which Miss Mapp +had just come. The latter was thus left all alone with her shopping +basket and her scarf.</p> + +<p>With the unerring divination which was the natural fruit of so many +years of ceaseless conjecture, she instantly suspected the worst. All +that busy conversation which her appearance had interrupted, all those +smiles which her presence had seemed but to render broader and more +hilarious, certainly concerned her. They could not still have been +talking about that fatal explosion from the cupboard in the garden-room, +because the duel had completely silenced the last echoes of that, and +she instantly put her finger on the spot. Somebody had been gossiping +(and how she hated gossip); somebody had given voice to what she had +been so studiously careful not to say. Until that moment, when she had +seen the rapid breaking up of the group of her friends all radiant with +merriment, she had longed to be aware that somebody had given voice to +it, and that everybody (under seal of secrecy) knew the unique +queenliness of her position, the overwhelmingly interesting rôle +that the violent passions of men had cast her for. She had not believed +in the truth of it herself, when that irresistible seizure of coquetry +took possession of her as she bent over her sweet chrysanthemums; but +the Padre’s respectful reception of it had caused her to hope that +everybody else might believe in it. The character of the smiles, +however, that wreathed the faces of her friends did not quite seem to +give fruition to that hope. There were smiles and smiles, respectful +smiles, sympathetic smiles, envious and admiring smiles, but there were +also smiles of hilarious and mocking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +incredulity. She concluded that she had to deal with the latter variety.</p> + +<p>“Something,” thought Miss Mapp, as she stood quite alone in +the High Street, with Mrs. Poppit labouring up the hill, and Diva +already a rose-madder speck in the distance, “has got to be +done,” and it only remained to settle what. Fury with the dear +Padre for having hinted precisely what she meant, intended and designed +that he should hint, was perhaps the paramount emotion in her mind; fury +with everybody else for not respectfully believing what she did not +believe herself made an important pendant.</p> + +<p>“What am I to do?” said Miss Mapp aloud, and had to explain +to Mr. Hopkins, who had all his clothes on, that she had not spoken to +him. Then she caught sight again of Mrs. Poppit’s sable coat +hardly further off than it had been when first this thunderclap of an +intuition deafened her, and still reeling from the shock, she remembered +that it was almost certainly Mrs. Poppit who was the cause of Mr. Wyse +writing her that exquisitely delicate note with regard to Thursday. It +was a herculean task, no doubt, to plug up all the fountains of talk in +Tilling which were spouting so merrily at her expense, but a beginning +must be made before she could arrive at the end. A short scurry of +nimble steps brought her up to the sables.</p> + +<p>“Dear Mrs. Poppit,” she said, “if you are walking by +my little house, would you give me two minutes’ talk? And—so +stupid of me to forget just now—will you come in after dinner on +Wednesday for a little rubber? The days are closing in now; one wants to +make the most of the daylight, and I think it is time to begin our +pleasant little winter evenings.”</p> + +<p>This was a bribe, and Mrs. Poppit instantly pocketed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +it, with the effect that two minutes later she was in the garden-room, +and had deposited her sable coat on the sofa (“Quite shook the +room with the weight of it,” said Miss Mapp to herself while she +arranged her plan).</p> + +<p>She stood looking out of the window for a moment, writhing with +humiliation at having to be suppliant to the Member of the British +Empire. She tried to remember Mrs. Poppit’s Christian name, and +was even prepared to use that, but this crowning ignominy was saved her, +as she could not recollect it.</p> + +<p>“Such an annoying thing has happened,” she said, though the +words seemed to blister her lips. “And you, dear Mrs. Poppit, as a +woman of the world, can advise me what to do. The fact is that somehow +or other, and I can’t think how, people are saying that the duel +last week, which was so happily averted, had something to do with poor +little me. So absurd! But you know what gossips we have in our dear +little Tilling.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Poppit turned on her a fallen and disappointed face.</p> + +<p>“But hadn’t it?” she said. “Why, when they were +all laughing about it just now” (“I was right, then,” +thought Miss Mapp, “and what a tactless woman!”), “I +said I believed it. And I told Mr. Wyse.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp cursed herself for her frankness. But she could obliterate +that again, and not lose a rare (goodness knew how rare!) believer.</p> + +<p>“I am in such a difficult position,” she said. “I +think I ought to let it be understood that there is no truth whatever in +such an idea, however much truth there may be. And did dear Mr. Wyse +believe—in fact, I know he must have, for he wrote me, oh, such a +delicate, understanding note. He, at any rate, takes no notice of all +that is being said and hinted.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +Miss Mapp was momentarily conscious that she meant precisely the +opposite of this. Dear Mr. Wyse <i>did</i> take notice, most respectful +notice, of all that was being said and hinted, thank goodness! But a +glance at Mrs. Poppit’s fat and interested face showed her that +the verbal discrepancy had gone unnoticed, and that the luscious flavour +of romance drowned the perception of anything else. She drew a +handkerchief out, and buried her thoughtful eyes in it a moment, rubbing +them with a stealthy motion, which Mrs. Poppit did not perceive, though +Diva would have.</p> + +<p>“My lips are sealed,” she continued, opening them very wide, +“and I can say nothing, except that I want this rumour to be +contradicted. I daresay those who started it thought it was true, but, +true or false, I must say nothing. I have always led a very quiet life +in my little house, with my sweet flowers for my companions, and if +there is one thing more than another that I dislike, it is that my +private affairs should be made matters of public interest. I do no harm +to anybody, I wish everybody well, and nothing—nothing will induce +me to open my lips upon this subject. I will not,” cried Miss +Mapp, ”say a word to defend or justify myself. What is true will +prevail. It comes in the Bible.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Poppit was too much interested in what she said to mind where it +came from.</p> + +<p>“What can I do?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Contradict, dear, the rumour that I have had anything to do with +the terrible thing which might have happened last week. Say on my +authority that it is so. I tremble to think”—here she +trembled very much—“what might happen if the report reached +Major Benjy’s ears, and he found out who had started it. We +must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +have no more duels in Tilling. I thought I should never survive that +morning.”</p> + +<p>“I will go and tell Mr. Wyse instantly—dear,” said +Mrs. Poppit.</p> + +<p>That would never do. True believers were so scarce that it was wicked to +think of unsettling their faith.</p> + +<p>“Poor Mr. Wyse!” said Miss Mapp with a magnanimous smile. +“Do not think, dear, of troubling him with these little trumpery +affairs. He will not take part in these little tittle-tattles. But if +you could let dear Diva and quaint Irene and sweet Evie and the good +Padre know that I laugh at all such nonsense——”</p> + +<p>“But they laugh at it, too,” said Mrs. Poppit.</p> + +<p>That would have been baffling for anyone who allowed herself to be +baffled, but that was not Miss Mapp’s way.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that bitter laughter!” she said. “It hurt me to +hear it. It was envious laughter, dear, scoffing, bitter laughter. I +heard! I cannot bear that the dear things should feel like that. Tell +them that I say how silly they are to believe anything of the sort. +Trust me, I am right about it. I wash my hands of such nonsense.”</p> + +<p>She made a vivid dumb-show of this, and after drying them on an +imaginary towel, let a sunny smile peep out the eyes which she had +rubbed.</p> + +<p>“All gone!” she said; “and we will have a dear little +party on Wednesday to show we are all friends again. And we meet for +lunch at dear Mr. Wyse’s the next day? Yes? He will get tired of +poor little me if he sees me two days running, so I shall not ask him. I +will just try to get two tables together, and nobody shall contradict +dear Diva, however many shillings she says she has won. I would sooner +pay them all myself than have any more of our unhappy divisions. You +will have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +talked to them all before Wednesday, will you not, dear?”</p> + +<p>As there were only four to talk to, Mrs. Poppit thought that she could +manage it, and spent a most interesting afternoon. For two years now she +had tried to unfreeze Miss Mapp, who, when all was said and done, was +the centre of the Tilling circle, and who, if any attempt was made to +shove her out towards the circumference, always gravitated back again. +And now, on these important errands she was Miss Mapp’s accredited +ambassador, and all the terrible business of the opening of the +store-cupboard and her decoration as M.B.E. was quite forgiven and +forgotten. There would be so much walking to be done from house to +house, that it was impossible to wear her sable coat unless she had the +Royce to take her about…</p> + +<p>The effect of her communications would have surprised anybody who did +not know Tilling. A less subtle society, when assured from a first-hand, +authoritative source that a report which it had entirely refused to +believe was false, would have prided itself on its perspicacity, and +said that it had laughed at such an idea, as soon as ever it heard it, +as being palpably (look at Miss Mapp!) untrue. Not so Tilling. The very +fact that, by the mouth of her ambassador, she so uncompromisingly +denied it, was precisely why Tilling began to wonder if there was not +something in it, and from wondering if there was not something in it, +surged to the conclusion that there certainly was. Diva, for instance, +the moment she was told that Elizabeth (for Mrs. Poppit remembered her +Christian name perfectly) utterly and scornfully denied the truth of the +report, became intensely thoughtful.</p> + +<p>“Say there’s nothing in it?” she observed. +“Can’t understand that.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +At that moment Diva’s telephone bell rang, and she hurried out and +in.</p> + +<p>“Party at Elizabeth’s on Wednesday,” she said. +“She saw me laughing. Why ask me?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Poppit was full of her sacred mission.</p> + +<p>“To show how little she minds your laughing,” she suggested.</p> + +<p>“As if it wasn’t true, then. Seems like that. Wants us to +think it’s not true.”</p> + +<p>“She was very earnest about it,” said the ambassador.</p> + +<p>Diva got up, and tripped over the outlying skirts of Mrs. Poppit’s +fur coat as she went to ring the bell.</p> + +<p>“Sorry,” she said. “Take it off and have a chat. +Tea’s coming. Muffins!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, thanks!” said Mrs. Poppit. “I’ve so +many calls to make.”</p> + +<p>“What? Similar calls?” asked Diva. “Wait ten minutes. +Tea, Janet. Quickly.”</p> + +<p>She whirled round the room once or twice, all corrugated with +perplexity, beginning telegraphic sentences, and not finishing them: +“Says it’s not true—laughs at notion of—And Mr. +Wyse believes—The Padre believed. After all, the +Major—Little cock-sparrow Captain Puffin—Or t’other +way round, do you think?—No other explanation, you +know—Might have been blood——”</p> + +<p>She buried her teeth in a muffin.</p> + +<p>“Believe there’s something in it,” she summed up.</p> + +<p>She observed her guest had neither tea nor muffin.</p> + +<p>“Help yourself,” she said. “Want to worry this +out.”</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth absolutely denies it,” said Mrs. Poppit. +“Her eyes were full of——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, anything,” said Diva. “Rubbed them. Or pepper if +it was at lunch. That’s no evidence.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +“But her solemn assertion——” began Mrs. Poppit, +thinking that she was being a complete failure as an ambassador. She was +carrying no conviction at all.</p> + +<p>“Saccharine!” observed Diva, handing her a small phial. +“Haven’t got more than enough sugar for myself. I expect +Elizabeth’s got plenty—well, never mind that. Don’t +you see? If it wasn’t true she would try to convince us that it +was. Seemed absurd on the face of it. But if she tries to convince us +that it isn’t true—well, something in it.”</p> + +<p>There was the gist of the matter, and Mrs. Poppit proceeding next to the +Padre’s house, found more muffins and incredulity. Nobody seemed +to believe Elizabeth’s assertion that there was “nothing in +it.” Evie ran round the room with excited squeaks, the Padre +nodded his head, in confirmation of the opinion which, when he first +delivered it, had been received with mocking incredulity over the crab. +Quaint Irene, intent on Mr. Hopkins’s left knee in the absence of +the model, said, “Good old Mapp: better late than never.” +Utter incredulity, in fact, was the ambassador’s welcome … +and all the incredulous were going to Elizabeth’s party on +Wednesday.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Poppit had sent the Royce home for the last of her calls, and +staggered up the hill past Elizabeth’s house. Oddly enough, just +as she passed the garden-room, the window was thrown up.</p> + +<p>“Cup of tea, dear Susan?” said Elizabeth. She had found an +old note of Mrs. Poppit’s among the waste paper for the firing of +the kitchen oven fully signed.</p> + +<p>“Just two minutes’ talk, Elizabeth,” she promptly +responded.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>The news that nobody in Tilling believed her left Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +Mapp more than calm, on the bright side of calm, that is to say. She had +a few indulgent phrases that tripped readily off her tongue for the dear +things who hated to be deprived of their gossip, but Susan certainly did +not receive the impression that this playful magnanimity was attained +with an effort. Elizabeth did not seem really to mind: she was very gay. +Then, skilfully changing the subject, she mourned over her dead dahlias.</p> + +<p>Though Tilling with all its perspicacity could not have known it, the +intuitive reader will certainly have perceived that Miss Mapp’s +party for Wednesday night had, so to speak, further irons in its fire. +It had originally been a bribe to Susan Poppit, in order to induce her +to spread broadcast that that ridiculous rumour (whoever had launched +it) had been promptly denied by the person whom it most immediately +concerned. It served a second purpose in showing that Miss Mapp was too +high above the mire of scandal, however interesting, to know or care who +might happen to be wallowing in it, and for this reason she asked +everybody who had done so. Such loftiness of soul had earned her an +amazing bonus, for it had induced those who sat in the seat of the +scoffers before to come hastily off, and join the thin but unwavering +ranks of the true believers, who up till then had consisted only of +Susan and Mr. Wyse. Frankly, so blest a conclusion had never occurred to +Miss Mapp: it was one of those unexpected rewards that fall like ripe +plums into the lap of the upright. By denying a rumour she had got +everybody to believe it, and when on Wednesday morning she went out to +get the chocolate cakes which were so useful in allaying the appetites +of guests, she encountered no broken conversations and gleeful smiles, +but sidelong glances of respectful envy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> But what Tilling did not and could not know was that this, the +first of the autumn after-dinner bridge-parties, was destined to look on +the famous teagown of kingfisher-blue, as designed for Mrs. Trout. No +doubt other ladies would have hurried up their new gowns, or at least +have camouflaged their old ones, in honour of the annual inauguration of +evening bridge, but Miss Mapp had no misgivings about being outshone. +And once again here she felt that luck waited on merit, for though when +she dressed that evening she found she had not anticipated that +artificial light would cast a somewhat pale (though not ghastly) +reflection from the vibrant blue on to her features, similar in effect +to (but not so marked as) the light that shines on the faces of those +who lean over the burning brandy and raisins of +“snapdragon,” this interesting pallor seemed very aptly to +bear witness to all that she had gone through. She did not look +ill—she was satisfied as to that—she looked gorgeous and a +little wan.</p> + +<p>The bridge tables were not set out in the garden-room, which entailed a +scurry over damp gravel on a black, windy night, but in the little +square parlour above her dining-room, where Withers, in the intervals of +admitting her guests, was laying out plates of sandwiches and the +chocolate cakes, reinforced when the interval for refreshments came with +hot soup, whisky and syphons, and a jug of “cup” prepared +according to an ancestral and economical recipe, which Miss Mapp had +taken a great deal of trouble about. A single bottle of white wine, with +suitable additions of ginger, nutmeg, herbs and soda-water, was the +mother of a gallon of a drink that seemed aflame with fiery and probably +spirituous ingredients. Guests were very careful how they partook of it, +so stimulating it seemed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +Miss Mapp was reading a book on gardening upside down (she had taken it +up rather hurriedly) when the Poppits arrived, and sprang to her feet +with a pretty cry at being so unexpectedly but delightfully disturbed.</p> + +<p>“Susan! Isabel!” she said. “Lovely of you to have +come! I was reading about flowers, making plans for next year.”</p> + +<p>She saw the four eyes riveted to her dress. Susan looked quite shabby in +comparison, and Isabel did not look anything at all.</p> + +<p>“My dear, too lovely!” said Mrs. Poppit slowly.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp looked brightly about, as if wondering what was too lovely: at +last she guessed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my new frock?” she said. “Do you like it, dear? +How sweet of you. It’s just a little nothing that I talked over +with that nice Miss Greele in the High Street. We put our heads +together, and invented something quite cheap and simple. And +here’s Evie and the dear Padre. So kind of you to look in.”</p> + +<p>Four more eyes were riveted on it.</p> + +<p>“Enticed you out just once, Padre,” went on Miss Mapp. +“So sweet of you to spare an evening. And here’s Major Benjy +and Captain Puffin. Well, that is nice!”</p> + +<p>This was really tremendous of Miss Mapp. Here was she meeting without +embarrassment or awkwardness the two, who if the duel had not been +averted, would have risked their very lives over some dispute concerning +her. Everybody else, naturally, was rather taken aback for the moment at +this situation, so deeply dyed in the dramatic. Should either of the +gladiators have heard that it was the Padre who undoubtedly had spread +the rumour concerning their hostess, Mrs. Poppit was afraid that even +his cloth might not protect him. But no such deplorable calamity +occurred,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +and only four more eyes were riveted to the kingfisher-blue.</p> + +<p>“Upon my word,” said the Major, “I never saw anything +more beautiful than that gown, Miss Elizabeth. Straight from Paris, eh? +Paris in every line of it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Major Benjy,” said Elizabeth. “You’re all +making fun of me and my simple little frock. I’m getting quite +shy. Just a bit of old stuff that I had. But so nice of you to like it. +I wonder where Diva is. We shall have to scold her for being late. +Ah—she shan’t be scolded. Diva, darl——”</p> + +<p>The endearing word froze on Miss Mapp’s lips and she turned deadly +white. In the doorway, in equal fury and dismay, stood Diva, dressed in +precisely the same staggeringly lovely costume as her hostess. Had Diva +and Miss Greele put their heads together too? Had Diva got a bit of old +stuff …?</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp pulled herself together first and moistened her dry lips.</p> + +<p>“So sweet of you to look in, dear,” she said. “Shall +we cut?”</p> + +<p>Naturally the malice of cards decreed that Miss Mapp and Diva should sit +next each other as adversaries at the same table, and the combined +effect of two lots of kingfisher-blue was blinding. Complete silence on +every subject connected, however remotely, with dress was, of course, +the only line for correct diplomacy to pursue, but then Major Benjy was +not diplomatic, only gallant.</p> + +<p>“Never saw such stunning gowns, eh, Padre?” he said. +“Dear me, they are very much alike too, aren’t they? Pair of +exquisite sisters.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +It would be hard to say which of the two found this speech the more +provocative of rage, for while Diva was four years younger than Miss +Mapp, Miss Mapp was four inches taller than Diva. She cut the cards to +her sister with a hand that trembled so much that she had to do it +again, and Diva could scarcely deal.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Mr. Wyse frankly confessed the next day when, at one o’clock, +Elizabeth found herself the first arrival at his house, that he had been +very self-indulgent.</p> + +<p>“I have given myself a treat, dear Miss Mapp,” he said. +“I have asked three entrancing ladies to share my humble meal with +me, and have provided—is it not shocking of me?—nobody else +to meet them. Your pardon, dear lady, for my greediness.”</p> + +<p>Now this was admirably done. Elizabeth knew very well why two out of the +three men in Tilling had not been asked (very gratifying, that reason +was), and with the true refinement of which Mr. Wyse was so amply +possessed, where he was taking all the blame on himself, and putting it +so prettily. She bestowed her widest smile on him.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Wyse,” she said. “We shall all quarrel over +you.”</p> + +<p>Not until Miss Mapp had spoken did she perceive how subtle her words +were. They seemed to bracket herself and Mr. Wyse together: all the men +(two out of the three, at any rate) had been quarrelling over her, and +now there seemed a very fair prospect of three of the women quarreling +over Mr. Wyse…</p> + +<p>Without being in the least effeminate, Mr. Wyse this morning looked +rather like a modern Troubadour. He had a velveteen coat on, a soft, +fluffy, mushy tie which looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +as if made of Shirley poppies, very neat knickerbockers, brown stockings +with blobs, like the fruit of plane trees, dependent from elaborate +“tops,” and shoes with a cascade of leather frilling +covering the laces. He might almost equally well be about to play golf +over putting-holes on the lawn as the guitar. He made a gesture of +polished, polite dissent, not contradicting, yet hardly accepting this +tribute, remitting it perhaps, just as the King when he enters the City +of London touches the sword of the Lord Mayor and tells him to keep +it…</p> + +<p>“So pleasant to be in Tilling again,” he said. “We +shall have a cosy, busy winter, I hope. You, I know, Miss Mapp, are +always busy.”</p> + +<p>“The day is never long enough for me,” said Elizabeth +enthusiastically. “What with my household duties in the morning, +and my garden, and our pleasant little gatherings, it is always bed-time +too soon. I want to read a great deal this winter, too.”</p> + +<p>Diva (at the sight of whom Elizabeth had to make a strong effort of +self-control) here came in, together with Mrs. Poppit, and the party was +complete. Elizabeth would have been willing to bet that, in spite of the +warmness of the morning, Susan would have on her sable coat, and though, +technically, she would have lost, she more than won morally, for Mr. +Wyse’s repeated speeches about his greediness were hardly out of +his mouth when she discovered that she had left her handkerchief in the +pocket of her sable coat, which she had put over the back of a +conspicuous chair in the hall. Figgis, however, came in at the moment to +say that lunch was ready, and she delayed them all very much by a long, +ineffectual search for it, during which Figgis, with a visible effort, +held up the sable coat, so that it was displayed to the utmost +advantage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +And then, only fancy, Susan discovered that it was in her sable muff all +the time!</p> + +<p>All three ladies were on tenterhooks of anxiety as to who was to be +placed on Mr. Wyse’s right, who on his left, and who would be +given only the place between two other women. But his tact was equal to +anything.</p> + +<p>“Miss Mapp,” he said, “will you honour me by taking +the head of my table and be hostess for me? Only I must have that vase +of flowers removed, Figgis; I can look at my flowers when Miss Mapp is +not here. Now, what have we got for breakfast—lunch, I should +say?”</p> + +<p>The macaroni which Mr. Wyse had brought back with him from Naples +naturally led on to Italian subjects, and the general scepticism about +the Contessa di Faraglione had a staggering blow dealt it.</p> + +<p>“My sister,” began Mr. Wyse (and by a swift sucking motion, +Diva drew into her mouth several serpents of dependent macaroni in order +to be able to listen better without this agitating distraction), +“my sister, I hope, will come to England this winter, and spend +several weeks with me.” (Sensation.)</p> + +<p>“And the Count?” asked Diva, having swallowed the serpents.</p> + +<p>“I fear not; Cecco—Francesco, you know—is a great +stay-at-home. Amelia is looking forward very much to seeing Tilling. I +shall insist on her making a long stay here, before she visits our +relations at Whitchurch.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth found herself reserving judgment. She would believe in the +Contessa Faraglione—no one more firmly—when she saw her, and +had reasonable proofs of her identity.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +“Delightful!” she said, abandoning with regret the fruitless +pursuit with a fork of the few last serpents that writhed on her plate. +“What an addition to our society! We shall all do our best to +spoil her, Mr. Wyse. When do you expect her?”</p> + +<p>“Early in December. You must be very kind to her, dear ladies. She +is an insatiable bridge-player. She has heard much of the great players +she will meet here.”</p> + +<p>That decided Mrs. Poppit. She would join the correspondence class +conducted by “Little Slam,” in “Cosy Corner.” +Little Slam, for the sum of two guineas, payable in advance, engaged to +make first-class players of anyone with normal intelligence. +Diva’s mind flew off to the subject of dress, and the thought of +the awful tragedy concerning the tea-gown of kingfisher-blue, combined +with the endive salad, gave a wry twist to her mouth for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I, as you know,” continued Mr. Wyse, “am no hand at +bridge.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Wyse, you play beautifully,” interpolated +Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>“Too flattering of you, Miss Mapp. But Amelia and Cecco do not +agree with you. I am never allowed to play when I am at the Villa +Faraglione, unless a table cannot be made up without me. But I shall +look forward to seeing many well-contested games.”</p> + +<p>The quails and the figs had come from Capri, and Miss Mapp, greedily +devouring each in turn, was so much incensed by the information that she +had elicited about them, that, though she joined in the general +Lobgesang, she was tempted to inquire whether the ice had not been +brought from the South Pole by some Antarctic expedition. Her mind was +not, like poor Diva’s, taken up with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +obstinate questionings about the kingfisher-blue tea-gown, for she had +already determined what she was going to do about it. Naturally it was +impossible to contemplate fresh encounters like that of last night, but +another gown, crimson-lake, the colour of Mrs. Trout’s toilet for +the second evening of the Duke of Hampshire’s visit, as Vogue +informed her, had completely annihilated Newport with its splendour. She +had already consulted Miss Greele about it, who said that if the +kingfisher-blue was bleached first the dye of crimson-lake would be +brilliant and pure… The thought of that, and the fact that Miss +Greele’s lips were professionally sealed, made her able to take +Diva’s arm as they strolled about the garden afterwards. The way +in which both Diva and Susan had made up to Mr. Wyse during lunch was +really very shocking, though it did not surprise Miss Mapp, but she +supposed their heads had been turned by the prospect of playing bridge +with a countess. Luckily she expected nothing better of either of them, +so their conduct was in no way a blow or a disappointment to her.</p> + +<p>This companionship with Diva was rather prolonged, for the adhesive +Susan, staggering about in her sables, clung close to their host and +simulated a clumsy interest in chrysanthemums; and whatever the other +two did, manœuvred herself into a strong position between them and +Mr. Wyse, from which, operating on interior lines, she could cut off +either assailant. More depressing yet (and throwing a sad new light on +his character), Mr. Wyse seemed to appreciate rather than resent the +appropriation of himself, and instead of making a sortie through the +beleaguering sables, would beg Diva and Elizabeth, who were so fond of +fuchsias and knew about them so well, to put their heads together over +an afflicted bed of these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +flowers in quite another part of the garden, and tell him what was the +best treatment for their anæmic condition. Pleasant and proper +though it was to each of them that Mr. Wyse should pay so little +attention to the other, it was bitter as the endive salad to both that +he should tolerate, if not enjoy, the companionship which the +forwardness of Susan forced on him, and while they absently stared at +the fuchsias, the fire kindled, and Elizabeth spake with her tongue.</p> + +<p>“How very plain poor Susan looks to-day,” she said. +“Such a colour, though to be sure I attribute that more to what +she ate and drank than to anything else. Crimson. Oh, those poor +fuchsias! I think I should throw them away.”</p> + +<p>The common antagonism, Diva felt, had drawn her and Elizabeth into the +most cordial of understandings. For the moment she felt nothing but +enthusiastic sympathy with Elizabeth, in spite of her kingfisher-blue +gown… What on earth, in parenthesis, was she to do with hers? She +could not give it to Janet: it was impossible to contemplate the idea of +Janet walking about the High Street in a tea-gown of kingfisher-blue +just in order to thwart Elizabeth…</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wyse seems taken with her,” said Diva. “How he +can! Rather a snob. M.B.E. She’s always popping in here. Saw her +yesterday going round the corner of the street.”</p> + +<p>“What time, dear?” asked Elizabeth, nosing the scent.</p> + +<p>“Middle of the morning.”</p> + +<p>“And I saw her in the afternoon,” said Elizabeth. +“That great lumbering Rolls-Royce went tacking and skidding round +the corner below my garden-room.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +“Was she in it?” asked Diva.</p> + +<p>This appeared rather a slur on Elizabeth’s reliability in +observation.</p> + +<p>“No, darling, she was sitting on the top,” she said, taking +the edge off the sarcasm, in case Diva had not intended to be critical, +by a little laugh. Diva drew the conclusion that Elizabeth had actually +seen her inside.</p> + +<p>“Think it’s serious?” she said. “Think +he’ll marry her?”</p> + +<p>The idea of course, repellent and odious as it was, had occurred to +Elizabeth, so she instantly denied it.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you busy little match-maker,” she said brightly. +“Such an idea never entered my head. You shouldn’t make such +fun of dear Susan. Come, dear, I can’t look at fuchsias any more. +I must be getting home and must say good-bye—au reservoir, +rather—to Mr. Wyse, if Susan will allow me to get a word in +edgeways.”</p> + +<p>Susan seemed delighted to let Miss Mapp get this particular word in +edgewise, and after a little speech from Mr. Wyse, in which he said that +he would not dream of allowing them to go yet, and immediately +afterwards shook hands warmly with them both, hoping that the reservoir +would be a very small one, the two were forced to leave the artful Susan +in possession of the field…</p> + +<p>It all looked rather black. Miss Mapp’s vivid imagination +altogether failed to picture what Tilling would be like if Susan +succeeded in becoming Mrs. Wyse and the sister-in-law of a countess, and +she sat down in her garden-room and closed her eyes for a moment, in +order to concentrate her power of figuring the situation. What dreadful +people these climbers were! How swiftly they swarmed up the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +social ladder with their Rolls-Royces and their red-currant fool, and +their sables! A few weeks ago she herself had never asked Susan into her +house, while the very first time she came she unloosed the sluices of +the store-cupboard, and now, owing to the necessity of getting her aid +in stopping that mischievous rumour, which she herself had been so +careful to set on foot, regarding the cause of the duel, Miss Mapp had +been positively obliged to flatter and to “Susan” her. And +if Diva’s awful surmise proved to be well-founded, Susan would be +in a position to patronize them all, and talk about counts and +countesses with the same air of unconcern as Mr. Wyse. She would be +bidden to the Villa Faraglione, she would play bridge with Cecco and +Amelia, she would visit the Wyses of Whitchurch…</p> + +<p>What was to be done? She might head another movement to put Mr. Wyse in +his proper place; this, if successful, would have the agreeable result +of pulling down Susan a rung or two should she carry out her design. But +the failure of the last attempt and Mr. Wyse’s eminence did not +argue well for any further manœuvre of the kind. Or should she +poison Mr. Wyse’s mind with regard to Susan?… Or was she +herself causelessly agitated?</p> + +<p>Or——</p> + +<p>Curiosity rushed like a devastating tornado across Miss Mapp’s +mind, rooting up all other growths, buffeting her with the necessity of +knowing what the two whom she had been forced to leave in the garden +were doing now, and snatching up her opera-glasses she glided upstairs, +and let herself out through the trap-door on to the roof. She did not +remember if it was possible to see Mr. Wyse’s garden or any part +of it from that watch-tower, but there was a chance…</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +Not a glimpse of it was visible. It lay quite hidden behind the +red-brick wall which bounded it, and not a chrysanthemum or a fuchsia +could she see. But her blood froze as, without putting the glasses down, +she ran her eye over such part of the house-wall as rose above the +obstruction. In his drawing-room window on the first floor were seated +two figures. Susan had taken her sables off: it was as if she intended +remaining there for ever, or at least for tea…</p> + +<hr /><h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p>The hippopotamus quarrel over their whisky between Major Flint and +Captain Puffin, which culminated in the challenge and all the shining +sequel, had had the excellent effect of making the united services more +united than ever. They both knew that, had they not severally run away +from the encounter, and, so providentially, met at the station, very +serious consequences might have ensued. Had not both but only one of +them been averse from taking or risking life, the other would surely +have remained in Tilling, and spread disastrous reports about the +bravery of the refugee; while if neither of them had had scruples on the +sacredness of human existence there might have been one if not two +corpses lying on the shining sands. Naturally the fact that they both +had taken the very earliest opportunity of averting an encounter by +flight, made it improbable that any future quarrel would be proceeded +with to violent extremes, but it was much safer to run no risks, and not +let verbal disagreements rise to hippopotamus-pitch again. Consequently +when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +there was any real danger of such savagery as was implied in sending +challenges, they hastened, by mutual concessions, to climb down from +these perilous places, where loss of balance might possibly occur. For +which of them could be absolutely certain that next time the other of +them might not be more courageous?…</p> + +<p>They were coming up from the tram-station one November evening, both +fizzing and fuming a good deal, and the Major was extremely lame, lamer +than Puffin. The rattle of the tram had made argument impossible during +the transit from the links, but they had both in this enforced silence +thought of several smart repartees, supposing that the other made the +requisite remarks to call them out, and on arrival at the Tilling +station they went on at precisely the same point at which they had +broken off on starting from the station by the links.</p> + +<p>“Well, I hope I can take a beating in as English a spirit as +anybody,” said the Major.</p> + +<p>This was lucky for Captain Puffin: he had thought it likely that he +would say just that, and had got a stinger for him.</p> + +<p>“And it worries you to find that your hopes are doomed to +disappointment,” he swiftly said.</p> + +<p>Major Flint stepped in a puddle which cooled his foot but not his +temper.</p> + +<p>“Most offensive remark,” he said. “I wasn’t +called Sporting Benjy in the regiment for nothing. But never mind that. +A worm-cast——”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t a worm-cast,” said Puffin. “It was +sheep’s dung!”</p> + +<p>Luck had veered here: the Major had felt sure that Puffin would +reiterate that utterly untrue contention.</p> + +<p>“I can’t pretend to be such a specialist as you in +those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +matters,” he said, “but you must allow me sufficient power +of observation to know a worm-cast when I see it. It was a worm-cast, +sir, a cast of a worm, and you had no right to remove it. If you will do +me the favour to consult the rules of golf——?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I grant you that you are more a specialist in the rules of +golf, Major, than in the practice of it,” said Puffin brightly.</p> + +<p>Suddenly it struck Sporting Benjy that the red signals of danger danced +before his eyes, and though the odious Puffin had scored twice to his +once, he called up all his powers of self-control, for if his friend was +anything like as exasperated as himself, the breeze of disagreement +might develop into a hurricane. At the moment he was passing through a +swing-gate which led to a short cut back to the town, but before he +could take hold of himself he had slammed it back in his fury, hitting +Puffin, who was following him, on the knee. Then he remembered he was a +sporting Christian gentleman, and no duellist.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I beg your pardon, my dear fellow,” he said, +with the utmost solicitude. “Uncommonly stupid of me. The gate +flew out of my hand. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”</p> + +<p>Puffin had just come to the same conclusion as Major Flint: magnanimity +was better than early trains, and ever so much better than bullets. +Indeed there was no comparison…</p> + +<p>“Not hurt a bit, thank you, Major,” he said, wincing with +the shrewdness of the blow, silently cursing his friend for what he felt +sure was no accident, and limping with both legs. “It didn’t +touch me. Ha! What a brilliant sunset. The town looks amazingly +picturesque.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +“It does indeed,” said the Major. “Fine subject for +Miss Mapp.”</p> + +<p>Puffin shuffled alongside.</p> + +<p>“There’s still a lot of talk going on in the town,” he +said, “about that duel of ours. Those fairies of yours are all +agog to know what it was about. I am sure they all think that there was +a lady in the case. Just like the vanity of the sex. If two men have a +quarrel, they think it must be because of their silly faces.”</p> + +<p>Ordinarily the Major’s gallantry would have resented this view, +but the reconciliation with Puffin was too recent to risk just at +present.</p> + +<p>“Poor little devils,” he said. “It makes an excitement +for them. I wonder who they think it is. It would puzzle me to name a +woman in Tilling worth catching an early train for.”</p> + +<p>“There are several who’d be surprised to hear you say that, +Major,” said Puffin archly.</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” said the other, strutting and swelling, and +walking without a sign of lameness…</p> + +<p>They had come to where their houses stood opposite each other on the +steep cobbled street, fronted at its top end by Miss Mapp’s +garden-room. She happened to be standing in the window, and the Major +made a great flourish of his cap, and laid his hand on his heart.</p> + +<p>“And there’s one of them,” said Puffin, as Miss Mapp +acknowledged these florid salutations with a wave of her hand, and +tripped away from the window.</p> + +<p>“Poking your fun at me,” said the Major. “Perhaps she +was the cause of our quarrel, hey? Well, I’ll step across, shall +I, about half-past nine, and bring my diaries with me?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll expect you. You’ll find me at my Roman +roads.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +The humour of this joke never staled, and they parted with hoots and +guffaws of laughter.</p> + +<p>It must not be supposed that duelling, puzzles over the portmanteau, or +the machinations of Susan had put out of Miss Mapp’s head her +amiable interest in the hour at which Major Benjy went to bed. For some +time she had been content to believe, on direct information from him, +that he went to bed early and worked at his diaries on alternate +evenings, but maturer consideration had led her to wonder whether he was +being quite as truthful as a gallant soldier should be. For though (on +alternate evenings) his house would be quite dark by half-past nine, it +was not for twelve hours or more afterwards that he could be heard +qui-hi-ing for his breakfast, and unless he was in some incipient stage +of sleeping-sickness, such hours provided more than ample slumber for a +growing child, and might be considered excessive for a middle-aged man. +She had a mass of evidence to show that on the other set of alternate +nights his diaries (which must, in parenthesis, be of extraordinary +fullness) occupied him into the small hours, and to go to bed at +half-past nine on one night and after one o’clock on the next +implied a complicated kind of regularity which cried aloud for +elucidation. If he had only breakfasted early on the mornings after he +had gone to bed early, she might have allowed herself to be weakly +credulous, but he never qui-hied earlier than half-past nine, and she +could not but think that to believe blindly in such habits would be a +triumph not for faith but for foolishness. “People,” said +Miss Mapp to herself, as her attention refused to concentrate on the +evening paper, “don’t do it. I never heard of a similar +case.”</p> + +<p>She had been spending the evening alone, and even the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +conviction that her cold apple tart had suffered diminution by at least +a slice, since she had so much enjoyed it hot at lunch, failed to occupy +her mind for long, for this matter had presented itself with a +clamouring insistence that drowned all other voices. She had tried, +when, at the conclusion of her supper, she had gone back to the +garden-room, to immerse herself in a book, in an evening paper, in the +portmanteau problem, in a jig-saw puzzle, and in Patience, but none of +these supplied the stimulus to lead her mind away from Major +Benjy’s evenings, or the narcotic to dull her unslumbering desire +to solve a problem that was rapidly becoming one of the greater +mysteries.</p> + +<p>Her radiator made a seat in the window agreeably warm, and a chink in +the curtains gave her a view of the Major’s lighted window. Even +as she looked, the illumination was extinguished. She had expected this, +as he had been at his diaries late—quite naughtily late—the +evening before, so this would be a night of infant slumber for twelve +hours or so.</p> + +<p>Even as she looked, a chink of light came from his front door, which +immediately enlarged itself into a full oblong. Then it went completely +out. “He has opened the door, and has put out the +hall-light,” whispered Miss Mapp to herself… “He has +gone out and shut the door… (Perhaps he is going to post a +letter.) … He has gone into Captain Puffin’s house without +knocking. So he is expected.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp did not at once guess that she held in her hand the key to the +mystery. It was certainly Major Benjy’s night for going to bed +early… Then a fierce illumination beat on her brain. Had she not, +so providentially, actually observed the Major cross the road,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +unmistakable in the lamplight, and had she only looked out of her window +after the light in his was quenched, she would surely have told herself +that good Major Benjy had gone to bed. But good Major Benjy, on ocular +evidence, she now knew to have done nothing of the kind: he had gone +across to see Captain Puffin… He was not good.</p> + +<p>She grasped the situation in its hideous entirety. She had been deceived +and hoodwinked. Major Benjy never went to bed early at all: on alternate +nights he went and sat with Captain Puffin. And Captain Puffin, she +could not but tell herself, sat up on the other set of alternate nights +with the Major, for it had not escaped her observation that when the +Major seemed to be sitting up, the Captain seemed to have gone to bed. +Instantly, with strong conviction, she suspected orgies. It remained to +be seen (and she would remain to see it) to what hour these orgies were +kept up.</p> + +<p>About eleven o’clock a little mist had begun to form in the +street, obscuring the complete clarity of her view, but through it there +still shone the light from behind Captain Puffin’s red blind, and +the mist was not so thick as to be able wholly to obscure the figure of +Major Flint when he should pass below the gas lamp again into his house. +But no such figure passed. Did he then work at his diaries every +evening? And what price, to put it vulgarly, Roman roads?</p> + +<p>Every moment her sense of being deceived grew blacker, and every moment +her curiosity as to what they were doing became more unbearable. After a +spasm of tactical thought she glided back into her house from the +garden-room, and, taking an envelope in her hand, so that she might, if +detected, say that she was going down to the letter-box at the corner to +catch the early post, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +unbolted her door and let herself out. She crossed the street and +tip-toed along the pavement to where the red light from Captain +Puffin’s window shone like a blurred danger-signal through the +mist.</p> + +<p>From inside came a loud duet of familiar voices: sometimes they spoke +singly, sometimes together. But she could not catch the words: they +sounded blurred and indistinct, and she told herself that she was very +glad that she could not hear what they said, for that would have seemed +like eaves-dropping. The voices sounded angry. Was there another duel +pending? And what was it about this time?</p> + +<p>Quite suddenly, from so close at hand that she positively leaped off the +pavement into the middle of the road, the door was thrown open and the +duet, louder than ever, streamed out into the street. Major Benjy +bounced out on to the threshold, and stumbled down the two steps that +led from the door.</p> + +<p>“Tell you it was a worm-cast,” he bellowed. “Think I +don’t know a worm-cast when I see a worm-cast?”</p> + +<p>Suddenly his tone changed: this was getting too near a quarrel.</p> + +<p>“Well, good-night, old fellow,” he said. “Jolly +evening.”</p> + +<p>He turned and saw, veiled and indistinct in the mist, the female figure +in the roadway. Undying coquetry, as Mr. Stevenson so finely remarked, +awoke, for the topic preceding the worm-cast had been “the +sex.”</p> + +<p>“Bless me,” he crowed, “if there isn’t an +unprotected lady all ’lone here in the dark, and lost in the fog. +’Llow me to ’scort you home, madam. Lemme introduce myself +and friend—Major Flint, that’s me, and my friend Captain +Puffin.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +He put up his hand and whispered an aside to Miss Mapp: +“Revolutionized the theory of navigation.”</p> + +<p>Major Benjy was certainly rather gay and rather indistinct, but his +polite gallantry could not fail to be attractive. It was naughty of him +to have said that he went to bed early on alternate nights, but +really… Still, it might be better to slip away unrecognized, and, +thinking it would be nice to scriggle by him and disappear in the mist, +she made a tactical error in her scriggling, for she scriggled full into +the light that streamed from the open door where Captain Puffin was +standing.</p> + +<p>He gave a shrill laugh.</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s Miss Mapp,” he said in his high falsetto. +“Blow me, if it isn’t our mutual friend Miss Mapp. What a +’strordinary coincidence.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp put on her most winning smile. To be dignified and at the same +time pleasant was the proper way to deal with this situation. Gentlemen +often had a glass of grog when they thought the ladies had gone +upstairs. That was how, for the moment, she summed things up.</p> + +<p>“Good evening,” she said. “I was just going down to +the pillar-box to post a letter,” and she exhibited her envelope. +But it dropped out of her hand, and the Major picked it up for her.</p> + +<p>“I’ll post it for you,” he said very pleasantly. +“Save you the trouble. Insist on it. Why, there’s no stamp +on it! Why, there’s no address on it! I say, Puffie, here’s +a letter with no address on it. Forgotten the address, Miss Mapp? Think +they’ll remember it at the post office? Well, that’s one of +the mos’ comic things I ever came across. An, an anonymous letter, +eh?”</p> + +<p>The night air began to have a most unfortunate effect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +on Puffin. When he came out it would have been quite unfair to have +described him as drunk. He was no more than gay and ready to go to bed. +Now he became portentously solemn, as the cold mist began to do its +deadly work.</p> + +<p>“A letter,” he said impressively, “without an address +is an uncommonly dangerous thing. Hic! Can’t tell into whose hands +it may fall. I would sooner go ’bout with a loaded pistol than +with a letter without any address. Send it to the bank for safety. Send +for the police. Follow my advice and send for the p’lice. +Police!”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp’s penetrating mind instantly perceived that that +dreadful Captain Puffin was drunk, and she promised herself that Tilling +should ring with the tale of his excesses to-morrow. But Major Benjy, +whom, if she mistook not, Captain Puffin had been trying, with perhaps +some small success, to lead astray, was a gallant gentleman still, and +she conceived the brilliant but madly mistaken idea of throwing herself +on his protection.</p> + +<p>“Major Benjy,” she said, “I will ask you to take me +home. Captain Puffin has had too much to drink——”</p> + +<p>“Woz that?” asked Captain Puffin, with an air of great +interest.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp abandoned dignity and pleasantness, and lost her temper.</p> + +<p>“I said you were drunk,” she said with great distinctness. +“Major Benjy, will you——”</p> + +<p>Captain Puffin came carefully down the two steps from the door on to the +pavement.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he said, “this all needs +’splanation. You say I’m drunk, do you? Well, I say +you’re drunk, going out like this in mill’ of the night to +post letter with no ’dress on it. Shamed of yourself, +mill’aged woman going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +out in the mill’ of the night in the mill’ of Tilling. Very +shocking thing. What do you say, Major?”</p> + +<p>Major Benjy drew himself up to his full height, and put on his hat in +order to take it off to Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>“My fren’ Cap’n Puffin,” he said, “is a +man of strictly ’stemious habits. Boys together. Very serious +thing to call a man of my fren’s character drunk. If you call him +drunk, why shouldn’t he call you drunk? Can’t take away +man’s character like that.”</p> + +<p>“Abso——” began Captain Puffin. Then he stopped +and pulled himself together.</p> + +<p>“Absolooly,” he said without a hitch.</p> + +<p>“Tilling shall hear of this to-morrow,” said Miss Mapp, +shivering with rage and sea-mist.</p> + +<p>Captain Puffin came a step closer.</p> + +<p>“Now I’ll tell you what it is, Miss Mapp,” he said. +“If you dare to say that I was drunk, Major and I, my fren’ +the Major and I will say you were drunk. Perhaps you think my +fren’ the Major’s drunk too. But sure’s I live, +I’ll say we were taking lil’ walk in the moonlight and found +you trying to post a letter with no ’dress on it, and +couldn’t find the slit to put it in. But ’slong as you say +nothing, I say nothing. Can’t say fairer than that. Liberal terms. +Mutual Protection Society. Your lips sealed, our lips sealed. Strictly +private. All trespassers will be prosecuted. By order. Hic!”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp felt that Major Benjy ought instantly to have challenged his +ignoble friend to another duel for this insolent suggestion, but he did +nothing of the kind, and his silence, which had some awful quality of +consent about it, chilled her mind, even as the sea-mist, now thick and +cold, made her certain that her nose was turning red. She still boiled +with rage, but her mind grew cold with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +odious apprehensions: she was like an ice-pudding with scalding +sauce… There they all stood, veiled in vapours, and outlined by +the red light that streamed from the still-open door of the intoxicated +Puffin, getting colder every moment.</p> + +<p>“Yessorno,” said Puffin, with chattering teeth.</p> + +<p>Bitter as it was to accept those outrageous terms, there really seemed, +without the Major’s support, to be no way out of it.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>Puffin gave a loud crow.</p> + +<p>“The ayes have it, Major,” he said. “So we’re +all frens again. Goonight everybody.”</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Miss Mapp let herself into her house in an agony of mortification. She +could scarcely realize that her little expedition, undertaken with so +much ardent and earnest curiosity only a quarter of an hour ago, had +ended in so deplorable a surfeit of sensation. She had gone out in +obedience to an innocent and, indeed, laudable desire to ascertain how +Major Benjy spent those evenings on which he had deceived her into +imagining that, owing to her influence, he had gone ever so early to +bed, only to find that he sat up ever so late and that she was fettered +by a promise not to breathe to a soul a single word about the depravity +of Captain Puffin, on pain of being herself accused out of the mouth of +two witnesses of being equally depraved herself. More wounding yet was +the part played by her Major Benjy in these odious transactions, and it +was only possible to conclude that he put a higher value on his +fellowship with his degraded friend than on chivalry itself… And +what did his silence imply? Probably it was a defensive one; he imagined +that he,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +too, would be included in the stories that Miss Mapp proposed to sow +broadcast upon the fruitful fields of Tilling, and, indeed, when she +called to mind his bellowing about worm-casts, his general instability +of speech and equilibrium, she told herself that he had ample cause for +such a supposition. He, when his lights were out, was abetting, +assisting and perhaps joining Captain Puffin. When his window was alight +on alternate nights she made no doubt now that Captain Puffin was +performing a similar rôle. This had been going on for weeks under +her very nose, without her having the smallest suspicion of it.</p> + +<p>Humiliated by all that had happened, and flattened in her own estimation +by the sense of her blindness, she penetrated to the kitchen and lit a +gas-ring to make herself some hot cocoa, which would at least comfort +her physical chatterings. There was a letter for Withers, slipped +sideways into its envelope, on the kitchen table, and mechanically she +opened and read it by the bluish flame of the burner. She had always +suspected Withers of having a young man, and here was proof of it. But +that he should be Mr. Hopkins of the fish-shop!</p> + +<p>There is known to medical science a pleasant device known as a +counter-irritant. If the patient has an aching and rheumatic joint he is +counselled to put some hot burning application on the skin, which smarts +so agonizingly that the ache is quite extinguished. Metaphorically, Mr. +Hopkins was thermogene to Miss Mapp’s outraged and aching +consciousness, and the smart occasioned by the knowledge that Withers +must have encouraged Mr. Hopkins (else he could scarcely have written a +letter so familiar and amorous), and thus be contemplating matrimony, +relieved the aching humiliation of all that had happened in the +sea-mist. It shed a new and lurid light on Withers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +it made her mistress feel that she had nourished a serpent in her bosom, +to think that Withers was contemplating so odious an act of selfishness +as matrimony. It would be necessary to find a new parlour-maid, and all +the trouble connected with that would not nearly be compensated for by +being able to buy fish at a lower rate. That was the least that Withers +could do for her, to insist that Mr. Hopkins should let her have dabs +and plaice exceptionally cheap. And ought she to tell Withers that she +had seen Mr. Hopkins … no, that was impossible: she must write +it, if she decided (for Withers’ sake) to make this fell +communication.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp turned and tossed on her uneasy bed, and her mind went back to +the Major and the Captain and that fiasco in the fog. Of course she was +perfectly at liberty (having made her promise under practical +compulsion) to tell everybody in Tilling what had occurred, trusting to +the chivalry of the men not to carry out their counter threat, but +looking at the matter quite dispassionately, she did not think it would +be wise to trust too much to chivalry. Still, even if they did carry out +their unmanly menace, nobody would seriously believe that she had been +drunk. But they might make a very disagreeable joke of pretending to do +so, and, in a word, the prospect frightened her. Whatever Tilling did or +did not believe, a residuum of ridicule would assuredly cling to her, +and her reputation of having perhaps been the cause of the quarrel +which, so happily did not end in a duel, would be lost for ever. Evie +would squeak, quaint Irene would certainly burst into hoarse laughter +when she heard the story. It was very inconvenient that honesty should +be the best policy.</p> + +<p>Her brain still violently active switched off for a moment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +on to the eternal problem of the portmanteau. Why, so she asked herself +for the hundredth time, if the portmanteau contained the fatal apparatus +of duelling, did not the combatants accompany it? And if (the only other +alternative) it did not——?</p> + +<p>An idea so luminous flashed across her brain that she almost thought the +room had leaped into light. The challenge distinctly said that Major +Benjy’s seconds would wait upon Captain Puffin in the course of +the morning. With what object then could the former have gone down to +the station to catch the early train? There could be but one object, +namely to get away as quickly as possible from the dangerous vicinity of +the challenged Captain. And why did Captain Puffin leave that note on +his table to say that he was suddenly called away, except in order to +escape from the ferocious neighbourhood of his challenger?</p> + +<p>“The cowards!” ejaculated Miss Mapp. “They both ran +away from each other! How blind I’ve been!”</p> + +<p>The veil was rent. She perceived how, carried away with the notion that +a duel was to be fought among the sand-dunes, Tilling had quite +overlooked the significance of the early train. She felt sure that she +had solved everything now, and gave herself up to a rapturous +consideration of what use she would make of the precious solution. All +regrets for the impossibility of ruining the character of Captain Puffin +with regard to intoxicants were gone, for she had an even deadlier +blacking to hand. No faintest hesitation at ruining the reputation of +Major Benjy as well crossed her mind; she gloried in it, for he had not +only caused her to deceive herself about the early hours on alternate +nights, but by his infamous willingness to back up Captain +Puffin’s bargain, he had shown himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +imperviously waterproof to all chivalrous impulses. For weeks now the +sorry pair of them had enjoyed the spurious splendours of being men of +blood and valour, when all the time they had put themselves to all sorts +of inconvenience in catching early trains and packing bags by +candle-light in order to escape the hot impulses of quarrel that, as she +saw now, were probably derived from drained whisky-bottles. That +mysterious holloaing about worm-casts was just such another +disagreement. And, crowning rapture of all, her own position as cause of +the projected duel was quite unassailed. Owing to her silence about +drink, no one would suspect a mere drunken brawl: she would still figure +as heroine, though the heroes were terribly dismantled. To be sure, it +would have been better if their ardour about her had been such that one +of them, at the least, had been prepared to face the ordeal, that they +had not both preferred flight, but even without that she had much to be +thankful for. “It will serve them both,” said Miss Mapp +(interrupted by a sneeze, for she had been sitting up in bed for quite a +considerable time), “right.”</p> + +<p>To one of Miss Mapp’s experience, the first step of her new and +delightful strategic campaign was obvious, and she spent hardly any time +at all in the window of her garden-room after breakfast next morning, +but set out with her shopping-basket at an unusually early hour. She +shuddered as she passed between the front doors of her miscreant +neighbours, for the chill of last night’s mist and its dreadful +memories still lingered there, but her present errand warmed her soul +even as the tepid November day comforted her body. No sign of life was +at present evident in those bibulous abodes, no qui-his had indicated +breakfast, and she put her utmost irony into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +the reflection that the United Services slept late after their +protracted industry last night over diaries and Roman roads. By a +natural revulsion, violent in proportion to the depth of her previous +regard for Major Benjy, she hugged herself more closely on the prospect +of exposing him than on that of exposing the other. She had had +daydreams about Major Benjy and the conversion of these into nightmares +annealed her softness into the semblance of some red-hot stone, giving +vengeance a concentrated sweetness as of saccharine contrasted with +ordinary lump sugar. This sweetness was of so powerful a quality that +she momentarily forgot all about the contents of Withers’s letter +on the kitchen table, and tripped across to Mr. Hopkins’s with an +oblivious smile for him.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Mr. Hopkins,” she said. “I wonder if +you’ve got a nice little dab for my dinner to-day? Yes? Will you +send it up then, please? What a mild morning, like May!”</p> + +<p>The opening move, of course, was to tell Diva about the revelation that +had burst on her the night before. Diva was incomparably the best +disseminator of news: she walked so fast, and her telegraphic style was +so brisk and lucid. Her terse tongue, her revolving feet! Such a gossip!</p> + +<p>“Diva darling, I had to look in a moment,” said Elizabeth, +pecking her affectionately on both cheeks. “Such a bit of +news!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Contessa di Faradidleony,” said Diva sarcastically. +“I heard yesterday. Journey put off.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp just managed to stifle the excitement which would have +betrayed that this was news to her.</p> + +<p>“No, dear, not that,” she said. “I didn’t +suspect you of not knowing that. Unfortunate though, isn’t it, +just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +when we were all beginning to believe that there was a Contessa di +Faradidleony! What a sweet name! For my part I shall believe in her when +I see her. Poor Mr. Wyse!”</p> + +<p>“What’s the news then?” asked Diva.</p> + +<p>“My dear, it all came upon me in a flash,” said Elizabeth. +“It explains the portmanteau and the early train and the +duel.”</p> + +<p>Diva looked disappointed. She thought this was to be some solid piece of +news, not one of Elizabeth’s ideas only.</p> + +<p>“Drive ahead,” she said.</p> + +<p>“They ran away from each other,” said Elizabeth, mouthing +her words as if speaking to a totally deaf person who understood +lip-reading. “Never mind the cause of the duel: that’s +another affair. But whatever the cause,” here she dropped her +eyes, “the Major having sent the challenge packed his portmanteau. +He ran away, dear Diva, and met Captain Puffin at the station running +away too.”</p> + +<p>“But did——” began Diva.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear, the note on Captain Puffin’s table to his +housekeeper said he was called away suddenly. What called him away? +Cowardice, dear! How ignoble it all is. And we’ve all been +thinking how brave and wonderful they were. They fled from each other, +and came back together and played golf. I never thought it was a game +for men. The sand-dunes where they were supposed to be fighting! They +might lose a ball there, but that would be the utmost. Not a life. Poor +Padre! Going out there to stop a duel, and only finding a game of golf. +But I understand the nature of men better now. What an +eye-opener!”</p> + +<p>Diva by this time was trundling away round the room,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +and longing to be off in order to tell everybody. She could find no hole +in Elizabeth’s arguments; it was founded as solidly as a Euclidean +proposition.</p> + +<p>“Ever occurred to you that they drink?” she asked. +“Believe in Roman roads and diaries? I don’t.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp bounded from her chair. Danger flags flapped and crimsoned in +her face. What if Diva went flying round Tilling, suggesting that in +addition to being cowards those two men were drunkards? They would, as +soon as any hint of the further exposure reached them, conclude that she +had set the idea on foot, and then——</p> + +<p>“No, Diva darling,” she said, “don’t dream of +imagining such a thing. So dangerous to hint anything of the sort. +Cowards they may be, and indeed are, but never have I seen anything that +leads me to suppose that they drink. We must give them their due, and +stick to what we know; we must not launch accusations wildly about other +matters, just because we know they are cowards. A coward need not be a +drunkard, thank God! It is all miserable enough, as it is!”</p> + +<p>Having averted this danger, Miss Mapp, with her radiant, excited face, +seemed to be bearing all the misery very courageously, and as Diva could +no longer be restrained from starting on her morning round they plunged +together into the maelstrom of the High Street, riding and whirling in +its waters with the solution of the portmanteau and the early train for +life-buoy. Very little shopping was done that morning, for every +permutation and combination of Tilling society (with the exception, of +course, of the cowards) had to be formed on the pavement with a view to +the amplest possible discussion. Diva, as might have been expected, gave +proof of her accustomed perfidy before long, for she certainly gave +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +Padre to understand that the chain of inductive reasoning was of her own +welding and Elizabeth had to hurry after him to correct this grabbing +impression; but the discovery in itself was so great, that small false +notes like these could not spoil the glorious harmony. Even Mr. Wyse +abandoned his usual neutrality with regard to social politics and left +his tall malacca cane in the chemist’s, so keen was his gusto, on +seeing Miss Mapp on the pavement outside, to glean any fresh detail of +evidence.</p> + +<p>By eleven o’clock that morning, the two duellists were universally +known as “the cowards,” the Padre alone demurring, and being +swampingly outvoted. He held (sticking up for his sex) that the Major +had been brave enough to send a challenge (on whatever subject) to his +friend, and had, though he subsequently failed to maintain that high +level, shown courage of a high order, since, for all he knew, Captain +Puffin might have accepted it. Miss Mapp was spokesman for the mind of +Tilling on this too indulgent judgment.</p> + +<p>“Dear Padre,” she said, “you are too generous +altogether. They both ran away: you can’t get over that. Besides +you must remember that, when the Major sent the challenge, he knew +Captain Puffin, oh so well, and quite expected he would run +away——”</p> + +<p>“Then why did he run away himself?” asked the Padre.</p> + +<p>This was rather puzzling for a moment, but Miss Mapp soon thought of the +explanation.</p> + +<p>“Oh, just to make sure,” she said, and Tilling applauded her +ready irony.</p> + +<p>And then came the climax of sensationalism, when at about ten minutes +past eleven the two cowards emerged into the High Street on their way to +catch the 11.20<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +tram out to the links. The day threatened rain, and they both carried +bags which contained a change of clothes. Just round the corner of the +High Street was the group which had applauded Miss Mapp’s +quickness, and the cowards were among the breakers. They glanced at each +other, seeing that Miss Mapp was the most towering of the breakers, but +it was too late to retreat, and they made the usual salutations.</p> + +<p>“Good morning,” said Diva, with her voice trembling. +“Off to catch the early train together—I mean the +tram.”</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Captain Puffin,” said Miss Mapp with extreme +sweetness. “What a nice little travelling bag! Oh, and the +Major’s got one too! H’m!”</p> + +<p>A certain dismay looked from Major Flint’s eyes, Captain +Puffin’s mouth fell open, and he forgot to shut it.</p> + +<p>“Yes; change of clothes,” said the Major. “It looks a +threatening morning.”</p> + +<p>“Very threatening,” said Miss Mapp. “I hope you will +do nothing rash or dangerous.”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s silence, and the two looked from one face to +another of this fell group. They all wore fixed, inexplicable smiles.</p> + +<p>“It will be pleasant among the sand-dunes,” said the Padre, +and his wife gave a loud squeak.</p> + +<p>“Well, we shall be missing our tram,” said the Major. +“Au—au reservoir, ladies.”</p> + +<p>Nobody responded at all, and they hurried off down the street, their +bags bumping together very inconveniently.</p> + +<p>“Something’s up, Major,” said Puffin, with true +Tilling perspicacity, as soon as they had got out of hearing…</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Precisely at the same moment Miss Mapp gave a little cooing laugh.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +“Now I must run and do my bittie shopping, Padre,” she said, +and kissed her hand all round… The curtain had to come down for a +little while on so dramatic a situation. Any discussion, just then, +would be an anti-climax.</p> + +<hr /><h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p>Captain Puffin found but a sombre diarist when he came over to study his +Roman roads with Major Flint that evening, and indeed he was a sombre +antiquarian himself. They had pondered a good deal during the day over +their strange reception in the High Street that morning and the +recondite allusions to bags, sand-dunes and early trains, and the more +they pondered the more probable it became that not only was something +up, but, as regards the duel, everything was up. For weeks now they had +been regarded by the ladies of Tilling with something approaching +veneration, but there seemed singularly little veneration at the back of +the comments this morning. Following so closely on the encounter with +Miss Mapp last night, this irreverent attitude was probably due to some +atheistical manœuvre of hers. Such, at least, was the +Major’s view, and when he held a view he usually stated it, did +Sporting Benjy.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got you to thank for this, Puffin,” he said. +“Upon my soul, I was ashamed of you for saying what you did to +Miss Mapp last night. Utter absence of any chivalrous feeling hinting +that if she said you were drunk you would say she was. She was as sober +and lucid last night as she was this morning. And she was devilish +lucid, to my mind, this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Pity you didn’t take her part last night,” said +Puffin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +“You thought that was a very ingenious idea of mine to make her +hold her tongue.”</p> + +<p>“There are finer things in this world, sir, than ingenuity,” +said the Major. “What your ingenuity has led to is this public +ridicule. You may not mind that yourself—you may be used to +it—but a man should regard the consequences of his act on +others… My status in Tilling is completely changed. Changed for +the worse, sir.”</p> + +<p>Puffin emitted his fluty, disagreeable laugh.</p> + +<p>“If your status in Tilling depended on a reputation for +bloodthirsty bravery,” he said, “the sooner it was changed +the better. We’re in the same boat: I don’t say I like the +boat, but there we are. Have a drink, and you’ll feel better. +Never mind your status.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve a good mind never to have a drink again,” said +the Major, pouring himself out one of his stiff little glasses, +“if a drink leads to this sort of thing.”</p> + +<p>“But it didn’t,” said Puffin. “How it all got +out, I can’t say, nor for that matter can you. If it hadn’t +been for me last night, it would have been all over Tilling that you and +I were tipsy as well. That wouldn’t have improved our status that +I can see.”</p> + +<p>“It was in consequence of what you said to +Mapp——” began the Major.</p> + +<p>“But, good Lord, where’s the connection?” asked +Puffin. “Produce the connection! Let’s have a look at the +connection! There ain’t any connection! Duelling wasn’t as +much as mentioned last night.”</p> + +<p>Major Flint pondered this in gloomy, sipping silence.</p> + +<p>“Bridge-party at Mrs. Poppit’s the day after +to-morrow,” he said. “I don’t feel as if I could face +it. Suppose they all go on making allusions to duelling and early trains +and that? I shan’t be able to keep my mind on the cards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +for fear of it. More than a sensitive man ought to be asked to +bear.”</p> + +<p>Puffin made a noise that sounded rather like “Fudge!”</p> + +<p>“Your pardon?” said the Major haughtily.</p> + +<p>“Granted by all means,” said Puffin. “But I +don’t see what you’re in such a taking about. We’re no +worse off than we were before we got a reputation for being such +fire-eaters. Being fire-eaters is a wash-out, that’s all. Pleasant +while it lasted, and now we’re as we were.”</p> + +<p>“But we’re not,” said the Major. “We’re +detected frauds! That’s not the same as being a fraud; far from +it. And who’s going to rub it in, my friend? Who’s been +rubbing away for all she’s worth? Miss Mapp, to whom, if I may say +so without offence, you behaved like a cur last night.”</p> + +<p>“And another cur stood by and wagged his tail,” retorted +Puffin.</p> + +<p>This was about as far as it was safe to go, and Puffin hastened to say +something pleasant about the hearthrug, to which his friend had a +suitable rejoinder. But after the affair last night, and the dark +sayings in the High Street this morning, there was little content or +cosiness about the session. Puffin’s brazen optimism was but a +tinkling cymbal, and the Major did not feel like tinkling at all. He but +snorted and glowered, revolving in his mind how to square Miss Mapp. +Allied with her, if she could but be won over, he felt he could face the +rest of Tilling with indifference, for hers would be the most +penetrating shafts, the most stinging pleasantries. He had more too, so +he reflected, to lose than Puffin, for till the affair of the duel the +other had never been credited with deeds of bloodthirsty gallantry, +whereas he had enjoyed no end of a reputation in amorous and honourable +affairs. Marriage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +no doubt would settle it satisfactorily, but this bachelor life, with +plenty of golf and diaries, was not to be lightly exchanged for the +unknown. Short of that …</p> + +<p>A light broke, and he got to his feet, following the gleam and walking +very lame out of general discomfiture.</p> + +<p>“Tell you what it is, Puffin,” he said. “You and I, +particularly you, owe that estimable lady a very profound apology for +what happened last night. You ought to withdraw every word you said, and +I every word that I didn’t say.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t be done,” said Puffin. “That would be +giving up my hold over your lady friend. We should be known as drunkards +all over the shop before you could say winkie. Worse off than +before.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit of it. If it’s Miss Mapp, and I’m sure it +is, who has been spreading these—these damaging rumours about our +duel, it’s because she’s outraged and offended, quite +rightly, at your conduct to her last night. Mine, too, if you like. +Ample apology, sir, that’s the ticket.”</p> + +<p>“Dog-ticket,” said Puffin. “No thanks.”</p> + +<p>“Very objectionable expression,” said Major Flint. +“But you shall do as you like. And so, with your permission, shall +I. I shall apologize for my share in that sorry performance, in which, +thank God, I only played a minor rôle. That’s my view, and +if you don’t like it, you may dislike it.”</p> + +<p>Puffin yawned.</p> + +<p>“Mapp’s a cat,” he said. “Stroke a cat and +you’ll get scratched. Shy a brick at a cat, and she’ll spit +at you and skedaddle. You’re poor company to-night, Major, with +all these qualms.”</p> + +<p>“Then, sir, you can relieve yourself of my company,” said +the Major, “by going home.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +“Just what I was about to do. Good night, old boy. Same time +to-morrow for the tram, if you’re not too badly mauled.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp, sitting by the hot-water pipes in the garden-room, looked out +not long after to see what the night was like. Though it was not yet +half-past ten the cowards’ sitting-rooms were both dark, and she +wondered what precisely that meant. There was no bridge-party anywhere +that night, and apparently there were no diaries or Roman roads either. +Why this sober and chastened darkness?…</p> + +<p>The Major qui-hied for his breakfast at an unusually early hour next +morning, for the courage of this resolve to placate, if possible, the +hostility of Miss Mapp had not, like that of the challenge, oozed out +during the night. He had dressed himself in his frock-coat, seen last on +the occasion when the Prince of Wales proved not to have come by the +6.37, and no female breast however furious could fail to recognize the +compliment of such a formality. Dressed thus, with top-hat and +patent-leather boots, he was clearly observed from the garden-room to +emerge into the street just when Captain Puffin’s hand thrust the +sponge on to the window-sill of his bath-room. Probably he too had +observed this apparition, for his fingers prematurely loosed hold of the +sponge, and it bounded into the street. Wild surmises flashed into Miss +Mapp’s active brain, the most likely of which was that Major Benjy +was going to propose to Mrs. Poppit, for if he had been going up to +London for some ceremonial occasion, he would be walking down the street +instead of up it. And then she saw his agitated finger press the +electric bell of her own door. So he was not on his way to propose to +Mrs. Poppit…</p> + +<p>She slid from the room and hurried across the few steps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +of garden to the house just in time to intercept Withers though not with +any idea of saying that she was out. Then Withers, according to +instructions, waited till Miss Mapp had tiptoed upstairs, and conducted +the Major to the garden-room, promising that she would +“tell” her mistress. This was unnecessary, as her mistress +knew. The Major pressed a half-crown into her astonished hand, thinking +it was a florin. He couldn’t precisely account for that impulse, +but general propitiation was at the bottom of it.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp meantime had sat down on her bed, and firmly rejected the idea +that his call had anything to do with marriage. During all these years +of friendliness he had not got so far as that, and, whatever the future +might hold, it was not likely that he would begin now at this moment +when she was so properly punishing him for his unchivalrous behaviour. +But what could the frock-coat mean? (There was Captain Puffin’s +servant picking up the sponge. She hoped it was covered with mud.) It +would be a very just continuation of his punishment to tell Withers she +would not see him, but the punishment which that would entail on herself +would be more than she could bear, for she would not know a +moment’s peace while she was ignorant of the nature of his errand. +Could he be on his way to the Padre’s to challenge him for that +very stinging allusion to sand-dunes yesterday, and was he come to give +her fair warning, so that she might stop a duel? It did not seem likely. +Unable to bear the suspense any longer, she adjusted her face in the +glass to an expression of frozen dignity and threw over her shoulders +the cloak trimmed with blue in which, on the occasion of the +Prince’s visit, she had sat down in the middle of the road. That +matched the Major’s frock-coat.</p> + +<p>She hummed a little song as she mounted the few steps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +to the garden-room, and stopped just after she had opened the door. She +did not offer to shake hands.</p> + +<p>“You wish to see me, Major Flint?” she said, in such a voice +as icebergs might be supposed to use when passing each other by night in +the Arctic seas.</p> + +<p>Major Flint certainly looked as if he hated seeing her, instead of +wishing it, for he backed into a corner of the room and dropped his hat.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Miss Mapp,” he said. “Very good of you. +I—I called.”</p> + +<p>He clearly had a difficulty in saying what he had come to say, but if he +thought that she was proposing to give him the smallest assistance, he +was in error.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you called,” said she. “Pray be seated.”</p> + +<p>He did so; she stood; he got up again.</p> + +<p>“I called,” said the Major, “I called to express my +very deep regret at my share, or, rather, that I did not take a more +active share—I allowed, in fact, a friend of mine to speak to you +in a manner that did equal discredit——”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp put her head on one side, as if trying to recollect some +trivial and unimportant occurrence.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” she said. “What was that?”</p> + +<p>“Captain Puffin,” began the Major.</p> + +<p>Then Miss Mapp remembered it all.</p> + +<p>“I hope, Major Flint,” she said, “that you will not +find it necessary to mention Captain Puffin’s name to me. I wish +him nothing but well, but he and his are no concern of mine. I have the +charity to suppose that he was quite drunk on the occasion to which I +imagine you allude. Intoxication alone could excuse what he said. Let us +leave Captain Puffin out of whatever you have come to say to me.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +This was adroit; it compelled the Major to begin all over again.</p> + +<p>“I come entirely on my own account,” he began.</p> + +<p>“I understand,” said Miss Mapp, instantly bringing Captain +Puffin in again. “Captain Puffin, now I presume sober, has no +regret for what he said when drunk. I quite see, and I expected no more +and no less from him. Yes. I am afraid I interrupted you.”</p> + +<p>Major Flint threw his friend overboard like ballast from a bumping +balloon.</p> + +<p>“I speak for myself,” he said. “I behaved, Miss Mapp, +like a—ha—worm. Defenceless lady, insolent fellow +drunk—I allude to Captain P——. I’m very sorry +for my part in it.”</p> + +<p>Up till this moment Miss Mapp had not made up her mind whether she +intended to forgive him or not; but here she saw how crushing a penalty +she might be able to inflict on Puffin if she forgave the erring and +possibly truly repentant Major. He had already spoken strongly about his +friend’s offence, and she could render life supremely nasty for +them both—particularly Puffin—if she made the Major agree +that he could not, if truly sorry, hold further intercourse with him. +There would be no more golf, no more diaries. Besides, if she was +observed to be friendly with the Major again and to cut Captain Puffin, +a very natural interpretation would be that she had learned that in the +original quarrel the Major had been defending her from some odious +tongue to the extent of a challenge, even though he subsequently ran +away. Tilling was quite clever enough to make that inference without any +suggestion from her… But if she forgave neither of them, they +would probably go on boozing and golfing together, and saying quite +dreadful things about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +her, and not care very much whether she forgave them or not. Her mind +was made up, and she gave a wan smile.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Major Flint,” she said, “it hurt me so dreadfully +that you should have stood by and heard that Man—if he is a +man—say those awful things to me and not take my side. It made me +feel so lonely. I had always been such good friends with you, and then +you turned your back on me like that. I didn’t know what I had +done to deserve it. I lay awake ever so long.”</p> + +<p>This was affecting, and he violently rubbed the nap of his hat the wrong +way… Then Miss Mapp broke into her sunniest smile.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m so glad you came to say you were sorry!” she +said. “Dear Major Benjy, we’re quite friends again.”</p> + +<p>She dabbed her handkerchief on her eyes.</p> + +<p>“So foolish of me!” she said. “Now sit down in my most +comfortable chair and have a cigarette.”</p> + +<p>Major Flint made a peck at the hand she extended to him, and cleared his +throat to indicate emotion. It really was a great relief to think that +she would not make awful allusions to duels in the middle of +bridge-parties.</p> + +<p>“And since you feel as you do about Captain Puffin,” she +said, “of course, you won’t see anything more of him. You +and I are quite one, aren’t we, about that? You have dissociated +yourself from him completely. The fact of your being sorry does +that.”</p> + +<p>It was quite clear to the Major that this condition was involved in his +forgiveness, though that fact, so obvious to Miss Mapp, had not occurred +to him before. Still, he had to accept it, or go unhouseled again. He +could explain to Puffin, under cover of night, or perhaps in +deaf-and-dumb alphabet from his window…</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +“Infamous, unforgivable behaviour!” he said. +“Pah!”</p> + +<p>“So glad you feel that,” said Miss Mapp, smiling till he saw +the entire row of her fine teeth. “And oh, may I say one little +thing more? I feel this: I feel that the dreadful shock to me of being +insulted like that was quite a lovely little blessing in disguise, now +that the effect has been to put an end to your intimacy with him. I +never liked it, and I liked it less than ever the other night. +He’s not a fit friend for you. Oh, I’m so thankful!”</p> + +<p>Major Flint saw that for the present he was irrevocably committed to +this clause in the treaty of peace. He could not face seeing it torn up +again, as it certainly would be, if he failed to accept it in its +entirety, nor could he imagine himself leaving the room with a renewal +of hostilities. He would lose his game of golf to-day as it was, for +apart from the fact that he would scarcely have time to change his +clothes (the idea of playing golf in a frock-coat and top-hat was +inconceivable) and catch the 11.20 tram, he could not be seen in +Puffin’s company at all. And, indeed, in the future, unless Puffin +could be induced to apologize and Miss Mapp to forgive, he saw, if he +was to play golf at all with his friend, that endless deceptions and +subterfuges were necessary in order to escape detection. One of them +would have to set out ten minutes before the other, and walk to the tram +by some unusual and circuitous route; they would have to play in a +clandestine and furtive manner, parting company before they got to the +club-house; disguises might be needful; there was a peck of difficulties +ahead. But he would have to go into these later; at present he must be +immersed in the rapture of his forgiveness.</p> + +<p>“Most generous of you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. “As +for that—well, I won’t allude to him again.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +Miss Mapp gave a happy little laugh, and having made a further plan, +switched away from the subject of captains and insults with alacrity.</p> + +<p>“Look!” she said. “I found these little rosebuds in +flower still, though it is the end of November. Such brave little +darlings, aren’t they? One for your button-hole, Major Benjy? And +then I must do my little shoppings or Withers will scold +me—Withers is so severe with me, keeps me in such order! If you +are going into the town, will you take me with you? I will put on my +hat.”</p> + +<p>Requests for the present were certainly commands, and two minutes later +they set forth. Luck, as usual, befriended ability, for there was Puffin +at his door, itching for the Major’s return (else they would miss +the tram); and lo! there came stepping along Miss Mapp in her +blue-trimmed cloak, and the Major attired as for marriage—top-hat, +frock-coat and button-hole. She did not look at Puffin and cut him; she +did not seem (with the deceptiveness of appearances) to see him at all, +so eager and agreeable was her conversation with her companion. The +Major, so Puffin thought, attempted to give him some sort of dazed and +hunted glance; but he could not be certain even of that, so swiftly had +it to be transformed into a genial interest in what Miss Mapp was +saying, and Puffin stared open-mouthed after them, for they were +terrible as an army with banners. Then Diva, trundling swiftly out of +the fish-shop, came, as well she might, to a dead halt, observing this +absolutely inexplicable phenomenon.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Diva darling,” said Miss Mapp. “Major +Benjy and I are doing our little shopping together. So kind of him, +isn’t it? and very naughty of me to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +take up his time. I told him he ought to be playing golf. Such a lovely +day! Au reservoir, sweet! Oh, and there’s the Padre, Major Benjy! +How quickly he walks! Yes, he sees us! And there’s Mrs. Poppit; +everybody is enjoying the sunshine. What a beautiful fur coat, though I +should think she found it very heavy and warm. Good morning, dear Susan! +You shopping, too, like Major Benjy and me? How is your dear +Isabel?”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp made the most of that morning; the magnanimity of her +forgiveness earned her incredible dividends. Up and down the High Street +she went, with Major Benjy in attendance, buying grocery, stationery, +gloves, eau-de-Cologne, boot-laces, the “Literary +Supplement” of <i>The Times</i>, dried camomile flowers, and every +conceivable thing that she might possibly need in the next week, so that +her shopping might be as protracted as possible. She allowed him (such +was her firmness in “spoiling” him) to carry her +shopping-basket, and when that was full, she decked him like a +sacrificial ram with little parcels hung by loops of string. Sometimes +she took him into a shop in case there might be someone there who had +not seen him yet on her leash; sometimes she left him on the pavement in +a prominent position, marking, all the time, just as if she had been a +clinical thermometer, the feverish curiosity that was burning in +Tilling’s veins. Only yesterday she had spread the news of his +cowardice broadcast; to-day their comradeship was of the chattiest and +most genial kind. There he was, carrying her basket, and wearing +frock-coat and top-hat and hung with parcels like a Christmas-tree, +spending the entire morning with her instead of golfing with Puffin. +Miss Mapp positively shuddered as she tried to realize what her state of +mind would have been, if she had seen him thus coupled with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +Diva. She would have suspected (rightly in all probability) some +loathsome intrigue against herself. And the cream of it was that until +she chose, nobody could possibly find out what had caused this +metamorphosis so paralysing to inquiring intellects, for Major Benjy +would assuredly never tell anyone that there was a reconciliation, due +to his apology for his rudeness, when he had stood by and permitted an +intoxicated Puffin to suggest disgraceful bargains. Tilling—poor +Tilling—would go crazy with suspense as to what it all meant.</p> + +<p>Never had there been such a shopping! It was nearly lunch-time when, at +her front door, Major Flint finally stripped himself of her parcels and +her companionship and hobbled home, profusely perspiring, and lame from +so much walking on pavements in tight patent-leather shoes. He was weary +and footsore; he had had no golf, and, though forgiven, was but a wreck. +She had made him ridiculous all the morning with his frock-coat and +top-hat and his porterages, and if forgiveness entailed any more of +these nightmare sacraments of friendliness, he felt that he would be +unable to endure the fatiguing accessories of the regenerate state. He +hung up his top-hat and wiped his wet and throbbing head; he kicked off +his shoes and shed his frock-coat, and furiously qui-hied for a whisky +and soda and lunch.</p> + +<p>His physical restoration was accompanied by a quickening of dismay at +the general prospect. What (to put it succinctly) was life worth, even +when unharassed by allusions to duels, without the solace of golf, +quarrels and diaries in the companionship of Puffin? He hated +Puffin—no one more so—but he could not possibly get on +without him, and it was entirely due to Puffin that he had spent so +outrageous a morning, for Puffin, seeking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +to silence Miss Mapp by his intoxicated bargain, had been the prime +cause of all this misery. He could not even, for fear of that all-seeing +eye in Miss Mapp’s garden-room, go across to the house of the +unforgiven sea-captain, and by a judicious recital of his woes induce +him to beg Miss Mapp’s forgiveness instantly. He would have to +wait till the kindly darkness fell… “Mere slavery!” +he exclaimed with passion.</p> + +<p>A tap at his sitting-room door interrupted the chain of these melancholy +reflections, and his permission to enter was responded to by Puffin +himself. The Major bounced from his seat.</p> + +<p>“You mustn’t stop here,” he said in a low voice, as if +afraid that he might be overheard. “Miss Mapp may have seen you +come in.”</p> + +<p>Puffin laughed shrilly.</p> + +<p>“Why, of course she did,” he gaily assented. “She was +at her window all right. Ancient lights, I shall call her. What’s +this all about now?”</p> + +<p>“You must go back,” said Major Flint agitatedly. “She +must see you go back. I can’t explain now. But I’ll come +across after dinner when it’s dark. Go; don’t wait.”</p> + +<p>He positively hustled the mystified Puffin out of the house, and Miss +Mapp’s face, which had grown sharp and pointed with doubts and +suspicions when she observed him enter Major Benjy’s house, +dimpled, as she saw him return, into her sunniest smiles. “Dear +Major Benjy,” she said, “he has refused to see him,” +and she cut the string of the large cardboard box which had just arrived +from the dyer’s with the most pleasurable anticipations…</p> + +<p>Well, it was certainly very magnificent, and Miss Greele was quite +right, for there was not the faintest tinge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +to show that it had originally been kingfisher-blue. She had not quite +realized how brilliant crimson-lake was in the piece; it seemed almost +to cast a ruddy glow on the very ceiling, and the fact that she had +caused the orange chiffon with which the neck and sleeves were trimmed +to be dyed black (following the exquisite taste of Mrs. Titus Trout) +only threw the splendour of the rest into more dazzling radiance. +Kingfisher-blue would appear quite ghostly and corpse-like in its +neighbourhood; and painful though that would be for Diva, it would, as +all her well-wishers must hope, be a lesson to her not to indulge in +such garishness. She should be taught her lesson (D.V.), thought Miss +Mapp, at Susan’s bridge-party to-morrow evening. Captain Puffin +was being taught a lesson, too, for we are never too old to learn, or, +for that matter, to teach.</p> + +<p>Though the night was dark and moonless, there was an inconveniently +brilliant gas-lamp close to the Major’s door, and that strategist, +carrying his round roll of diaries, much the shape of a bottle, under +his coat, went about half-past nine that evening to look at the +rain-gutter which had been weeping into his yard, and let himself out of +the back-door round the corner. From there he went down past the +fishmonger’s, crossed the road, and doubled back again up +Puffin’s side of the street, which was not so vividly illuminated, +though he took the precaution of making himself little with bent knees, +and of limping. Puffin was already warming himself over the fire and +imbibing Roman roads, and was disposed to be hilarious over the +Major’s shopping.</p> + +<p>“But why top-hat and frock-coat, Major?” he asked. +“Another visit of the Prince of Wales, I asked myself, or the +Voice that breathed o’er Eden? Have a drink—one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +of mine, I mean? I owe you a drink for the good laugh you gave +me.”</p> + +<p>Had it not been for this generosity and the need of getting on the right +side of Puffin, Major Flint would certainly have resented such clumsy +levity, but this double consideration caused him to take it with +unwonted good-humour. His attempt to laugh, indeed, sounded a little +hollow, but that is the habit of self-directed merriment.</p> + +<p>“Well, I allow it must have seemed amusing,” he said. +“The fact was that I thought she would appreciate my putting a +little ceremony into my errand of apology, and then she whisked me off +shopping before I could go and change.”</p> + +<p>“Kiss and friends again, then?” asked Puffin.</p> + +<p>The Major grew a little stately over this.</p> + +<p>“No such familiarity passed,” he said. “But she +accepted my regrets with—ha—the most gracious generosity. A +fine-spirited woman, sir; you’ll find the same.”</p> + +<p>“I might if I looked for it,” said Puffin. “But why +should I want to make it up? You’ve done that, and that prevents +her talking about duelling and early trains. She can’t mock at me +because of you. You might pass me back my bottle, if you’ve taken +your drink.”</p> + +<p>The Major reluctantly did so.</p> + +<p>“You must please yourself, old boy,” he said. +“It’s your business, and no one’s ever said that Benjy +Flint interfered in another man’s affairs. But I trust you will do +what good feeling indicates. I hope you value our jolly games of golf +and our pleasant evenings sufficiently highly.”</p> + +<p>“Eh! how’s that?” asked Puffin. “You going to +cut me too?”</p> + +<p>The Major sat down and put his large feet on the fender.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +“Tact and diplomacy, Benjy, my boy,” he reminded himself.</p> + +<p>“Ha! That’s what I like,” he said, “a good fire +and a friend, and the rest of the world may go hang. There’s no +question of cutting, old man; I needn’t tell you that—but we +must have one of our good talks. For instance, I very unceremoniously +turned you out of my house this afternoon, and I owe you an explanation +of that. I’ll give it you in one word: Miss Mapp saw you come in. +She didn’t see me come in here this evening—ha! +ha!—and that’s why I can sit at my ease. But if she +knew——”</p> + +<p>Puffin guessed.</p> + +<p>“What has happened, Major, is that you’ve thrown me over for +Miss Mapp,” he observed.</p> + +<p>“No, sir, I have not,” said the Major with emphasis. +“Should I be sitting here and drinking your whisky if I had? But +this morning, after that lady had accepted my regret for my share in +what occurred the other night, she assumed that since I condemned my own +conduct unreservedly, I must equally condemn yours. It really was like a +conjuring trick; the thing was done before I knew anything about it. And +before I’d had time to say, ‘Hold on a bit,’ I was +being led up and down the High Street, carrying as much merchandise as a +drove of camels. God, sir, I suffered this morning; you don’t seem +to realize that I suffered; I couldn’t stand any more mornings +like that: I haven’t the stamina.”</p> + +<p>“A powerful woman,” said Puffin reflectively.</p> + +<p>“You may well say that,” observed Major Flint. “That +is finely said. A powerful woman she is, with a powerful tongue, and +able to be powerful nasty, and if she sees you and me on friendly terms +again, she’ll turn the full hose on to us both unless you make it +up with her.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +“H’m, yes. But as likely as not she’ll tell me and my +apologies to go hang.”</p> + +<p>“Have a try, old man,” said the Major encouragingly.</p> + +<p>Puffin looked at his whisky-bottle.</p> + +<p>“Help yourself, Major,” he said. “I think you’ll +have to help me out, you know. Go and interview her: see if +there’s a chance of my favourable reception.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said the Major firmly, “I will not run the +risk of another morning’s shopping in the High Street.”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t. Watch till she comes back from her shopping +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Major Benjy clearly did not like the prospect at all, but Puffin grew +firmer and firmer in his absolute refusal to lay himself open to rebuff, +and presently, they came to an agreement that the Major was to go on his +ambassadorial errand next morning. That being settled, the still +undecided point about the worm-cast gave rise to a good deal of heat, +until, it being discovered that the window was open, and that their +voices might easily carry as far as the garden-room, they made malignant +rejoinders to each other in whispers. But it was impossible to go on +quarrelling for long in so confidential a manner, and the disagreement +was deferred to a more convenient occasion. It was late when the Major +left, and after putting out the light in Puffin’s hall, so that he +should not be silhouetted against it, he slid into the darkness, and +reached his own door by a subtle detour.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp had a good deal of division of her swift mind, when, next +morning, she learned the nature of Major Benjy’s second errand. If +she, like Mr. Wyse, was to encourage Puffin to hope that she would +accept his apologies, she would be obliged to remit all further +punishment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +of him, and allow him to consort with his friend again. It was difficult +to forgo the pleasure of his chastisement, but, on the other hand, it +was just possible that the Major might break away, and, whether she +liked it or not (and she would not), refuse permanently to give up +Puffin’s society. That would be awkward since she had publicly +paraded her reconciliation with him. What further inclined her to +clemency, was that this very evening the crimson-lake tea-gown would +shed its effulgence over Mrs. Poppit’s bridge-party, and Diva +would never want to hear the word “kingfisher” again. That +was enough to put anybody in a good temper. So the diplomatist returned +to the miscreant with the glad tidings that Miss Mapp would hear his +supplication with a favourable ear, and she took up a stately position +in the garden-room, which she selected as audience chamber, near the +bell so that she could ring for Withers if necessary.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Miss Mapp’s mercy was largely tempered with justice, and she +proposed, in spite of the leniency which she would eventually exhibit, +to give Puffin “what for,” first. She had not for him, as +for Major Benjy, that feminine weakness which had made it a positive +luxury to forgive him: she never even thought of Puffin as Captain +Dicky, far less let the pretty endearment slip off her tongue +accidentally, and the luxury which she anticipated from the interview +was that of administering a quantity of hard slaps. She had appointed +half-past twelve as the hour for his suffering, so that he must go +without his golf again.</p> + +<p>She put down the book she was reading when he appeared, and gazed at him +stonily without speech. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +limped into the middle of the room. This might be forgiveness, but it +did not look like it, and he wondered whether she had got him here on +false pretences.</p> + +<p>“Good morning,” said he.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp inclined her head. Silence was gold.</p> + +<p>“I understood from Major Flint——” began Puffin.</p> + +<p>Speech could be gold too.</p> + +<p>“If,” said Miss Mapp, “you have come to speak about +Major Flint you have wasted your time. And mine!”</p> + +<p>(How different from Major Benjy, she thought. What a shrimp!)</p> + +<p>The shrimp gave a slight gasp. The thing had got to be done, and the +sooner he was out of range of this powerful woman the better.</p> + +<p>“I am extremely sorry for what I said to you the other +night,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I am glad you are sorry,” said Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>“I offer you my apologies for what I said,” continued +Puffin.</p> + +<p>The whip whistled.</p> + +<p>“When you spoke to me on the occasion to which you refer,” +said Miss Mapp, “I saw of course at once that you were not in a +condition to speak to anybody. I instantly did you that justice, for I +am just to everybody. I paid no more attention to what you said than I +should have paid to any tipsy vagabond in the slums. I daresay you +hardly remember what you said, so that before I hear your expression of +regret, I will remind you of it. You threatened, unless I promised to +tell nobody in what a disgusting condition you were, to say that I was +tipsy. Elizabeth Mapp tipsy! That was what you said, Captain +Puffin.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +Captain Puffin turned extremely red. (“Now the shrimp’s +being boiled,” thought Miss Mapp.)</p> + +<p>“I can’t do more than apologize,” said he. He did not +know whether he was angrier with his ambassador or her.</p> + +<p>“Did you say you couldn’t do ‘more,’” said +Miss Mapp with an air of great interest. “How curious! I should +have thought you couldn’t have done less.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what more can I do?” asked he.</p> + +<p>“If you think,” said Miss Mapp, “that you hurt me by +your conduct that night, you are vastly mistaken. And if you think you +can do no more than apologize, I will teach you better. You can make an +effort, Captain Puffin, to break with your deplorable habits, to try to +get back a little of the self-respect, if you ever had any, which you +have lost. You can cease trying, oh, so unsuccessfully, to drag Major +Benjy down to your level. That’s what you can do.”</p> + +<p>She let these withering observations blight him.</p> + +<p>“I accept your apologies,” she said. “I hope you will +do better in the future, Captain Puffin, and I shall look anxiously for +signs of improvement. We will meet with politeness and friendliness when +we are brought together and I will do my best to wipe all remembrance of +your tipsy impertinence from my mind. And you must do your best too. You +are not young, and engrained habits are difficult to get rid of. But do +not despair, Captain Puffin. And now I will ring for Withers and she +will show you out.”</p> + +<p>She rang the bell, and gave a sample of her generous oblivion.</p> + +<p>“And we meet, do we not, this evening at Mrs. +Poppit’s?” she said, looking not at him, but about a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +foot above his head. “Such pleasant evenings one always has there, +I hope it will not be a wet evening, but the glass is sadly down. Oh, +Withers, Captain Puffin is going. Good morning, Captain Puffin. Such a +pleasure!”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp hummed a rollicking little tune as she observed him totter +down the street.</p> + +<p>“There!” she said, and had a glass of Burgundy for +lunch as a treat.</p> + +<hr /><h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p>The news that Mr. Wyse was to be of the party that evening at Mrs. +Poppit’s and was to dine there first, <i>en famille</i> (as he casually +let slip in order to air his French), created a disagreeable impression +that afternoon in Tilling. It was not usual to do anything more than +“have a tray” for your evening meal, if one of these winter +bridge-parties followed, and there was, to Miss Mapp’s mind, a +deplorable tendency to ostentation in this dinner-giving before a party. +Still, if Susan was determined to be extravagant, she might have asked +Miss Mapp as well, who resented this want of hospitality. She did not +like, either, this hole-and-corner <i>en famille</i> work with Mr. Wyse; it +indicated a pushing familiarity to which, it was hoped, Mr. Wyse’s +eyes were open.</p> + +<p>There was another point: the party, it had been ascertained, would in +all number ten, and if, as was certain, there would be two +bridge-tables, that seemed to imply that two people would have to cut +out. There were often nine at Mrs. Poppit’s bridge-parties (she +appeared to be unable to count), but on those occasions Isabel was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +generally told by her mother that she did not care for bridge, and so +there was no cutting out, but only a pleasant book for Isabel. But what +would be done with ten? It was idle to hope that Susan would sit out: as +hostess she always considered it part of her duties to play solidly the +entire evening. Still, if the cutting of cards malignantly ordained that +Miss Mapp was ejected, it was only reasonable to expect that after her +magnanimity to the United Services, either Major Benjy or Captain Puffin +would be so obdurate in his insistence that she must play instead of +him, that it would be only ladylike to yield.</p> + +<p>She did not, therefore, allow this possibility to dim the pleasure she +anticipated from the discomfiture of darling Diva, who would be certain +to appear in the kingfisher-blue tea-gown, and find herself ghastly and +outshone by the crimson-lake which was the colour of Mrs. Trout’s +second toilet, and Miss Mapp, after prolonged thought as to her most +dramatic moment of entrance in the crimson-lake, determined to arrive +when she might expect the rest of the guests to have already assembled. +She would risk, it is true, being out of a rubber for a little, since +bridge might have already begun, but play would have to stop for a +minute of greetings when she came in, and she would beg everybody not to +stir, and would seat herself quite, quite close to Diva, and openly +admire her pretty frock, “like one I used to have …!”</p> + +<p>It was, therefore, not much lacking of ten o’clock when, after she +had waited a considerable time on Mrs. Poppit’s threshold, Boon +sulkily allowed her to enter, but gave no answer to her timid inquiry +of: “Am I very late, Boon?” The drawing-room door was a +little ajar, and as she took off the cloak that masked the splendour +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +the crimson-lake, her acute ears heard the murmur of talk going on, +which indicated that bridge had not yet begun, while her acute nostrils +detected the faint but certain smell of roast grouse, which showed what +Susan had given Mr. Wyse for dinner, probably telling him that the birds +were a present to her from the shooting-lodge where she had stayed in +the summer. Then, after she had thrown herself a glance in the mirror, +and put on her smile, Boon preceded her, slightly shrugging his +shoulders, to the drawing-room door, which he pushed open, and grunted +loudly, which was his manner of announcing a guest. Miss Mapp went +tripping in, almost at a run, to indicate how vexed she was with herself +for being late, and there, just in front of her, stood Diva, dressed not +in kingfisher-blue at all, but in the crimson-lake of Mrs. Trout’s +second toilet. Perfidious Diva had had her dress dyed too…</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp’s courage rose to the occasion. Other people, Majors and +tipsy Captains, might be cowards, but not she. Twice now (omitting the +matter of the Wars of the Roses) had Diva by some cunning, which it was +impossible not to suspect of a diabolical origin, clad her odious little +roundabout form in splendours identical with Miss Mapp’s, but now, +without faltering even when she heard Evie’s loud squeak, she +turned to her hostess, who wore the Order of M.B.E. on her ample breast, +and made her salutations in a perfectly calm voice.</p> + +<p>“Dear Susan, don’t scold me for being so late,” she +said, “though I know I deserve it. So sweet of you! Isabel darling +and dear Evie! Oh, and Mr. Wyse! Sweet Irene! Major Benjy and Captain +Puffin! Had a nice game of golf? And the Padre!…”</p> + +<p>She hesitated a moment wondering, if she could, without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +screaming or scratching, seem aware of Diva’s presence. Then she +soared, lambent as flame.</p> + +<p>“Diva darling!” she said, and bent and kissed her, even as +St. Stephen in the moment of martyrdom prayed for those who stoned him. +Flesh and blood could not manage more, and she turned to Mr. Wyse, +remembering that Diva had told her that the Contessa +Faradiddleony’s arrival was postponed.</p> + +<p>“And your dear sister has put off her journey, I +understand,” she said. “Such a disappointment! Shall we see +her at Tilling at all, do you think?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wyse looked surprised.</p> + +<p>“Dear lady,” he said, “you’re the second person +who has said that to me. Mrs. Plaistow asked me just +now——”</p> + +<p>“Yes; it was she who told me,” said Miss Mapp in case there +was a mistake. “Isn’t it true?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not. I told my housekeeper that the Contessa’s +maid was ill, and would follow her, but that’s the only foundation +I know of for this rumour. Amelia encourages me to hope that she will be +here early next week.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no doubt that’s it!” said Miss Mapp in an aside +so that Diva could hear. “Darling Diva’s always getting hold +of the most erroneous information. She must have been listening to +servants’ gossip. So glad she’s wrong about it.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wyse made one of his stately inclinations of the head.</p> + +<p>“Amelia will regret very much not being here to-night,” he +said, “for I see all the great bridge-players are present.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Wyse!” said she. “We shall all be humble +learners compared with the Contessa, I expect.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +“Not at all!” said Mr. Wyse. “But what a delightful +idea of yours and Mrs. Plaistow’s to dress alike in such lovely +gowns. Quite like sisters.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp could not trust herself to speak on this subject, and showed +all her teeth, not snarling but amazingly smiling. She had no occasion +to reply, however, for Captain Puffin joined them, eagerly deferential.</p> + +<p>“What a charming surprise you and Mrs. Plaistow have given us, +Miss Mapp,” he said, “in appearing again in the same +beautiful dresses. Quite like——”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp could not bear to hear what she and Diva were like, and +wheeled about, passionately regretting that she had forgiven Puffin. +This manœuvre brought her face to face with the Major.</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “you look +magnificent to-night.”</p> + +<p>He saw the light of fury in her eyes, and guessed, mere man as he was, +what it was about. He bent to her and spoke low.</p> + +<p>“But, by Jove!” he said with supreme diplomacy, +“somebody ought to tell our good Mrs. Plaistow that some women can +wear a wonderful gown and others—ha!”</p> + +<p>“Dear Major Benjy,” said she. “Cruel of you to poor +Diva.”</p> + +<p>But instantly her happiness was clouded again, for the Padre had a very +ill-inspired notion.</p> + +<p>“What ho! fair Madam Plaistow,” he humorously observed to +Miss Mapp. “Ah! Peccavi! I am in error. It is Mistress Mapp. But +let us to the cards! Our hostess craves thy presence at yon +table.”</p> + +<p>Contrary to custom Mrs. Poppit did not sit firmly down at a table, nor +was Isabel told that she had an invincible objection to playing bridge. +Instead she bade everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +else take their seats, and said that she and Mr. Wyse had settled at +dinner that they much preferred looking on and learning to playing. With +a view to enjoying this incredible treat as fully as possible, they at +once seated themselves on a low sofa at the far end of the room where +they could not look or learn at all, and engaged in conversation. Diva +and Elizabeth, as might have been expected from the malignant influence +which watched over their attire, cut in at the same table and were +partners, so that they had, in spite of the deadly antagonism of +identical tea-gowns, a financial interest in common, while a further +bond between them was the eagerness with which they strained their ears +to overhear anything that their hostess and Mr. Wyse were saying to each +other.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp and Diva alike were perhaps busier when they were being dummy +than when they were playing the cards. Over the background of each mind +was spread a hatred of the other, red as their tea-gowns, and shot with +black despair as to what on earth they should do now with those +ill-fated pieces of pride. Miss Mapp was prepared to make a perfect +chameleon of hers, if only she could get away from Diva’s hue, but +what if, having changed, say, to purple, Diva became purple too? She +could not stand a third coincidence, and besides, she much doubted +whether any gown that had once been of so pronounced a crimson-lake, +could successfully attempt to appear of any other hue except perhaps +black. If Diva died, she might perhaps consult Miss Greele as to whether +black would be possible, but then if Diva died, there was no reason for +not wearing crimson-lake for ever, since it would be an insincerity of +which Miss Mapp humbly hoped she was incapable, to go into mourning for +Diva just because she died.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +In front of this lurid background of despair moved the figures which +would have commanded all her attention, have aroused all the feelings of +disgust and pity of which she was capable, had only Diva stuck to +kingfisher-blue. There they sat on the sofa, talking in voices which it +was impossible to overhear, and if ever a woman made up to a man, and if +ever a man was taken in by shallow artifices, “they,” +thought Miss Mapp, “are the ones.” There was no longer any +question that Susan was doing her utmost to inveigle Mr. Wyse into +matrimony, for no other motive, not politeness, not the charm of +conversation, not the low, comfortable seat by the fire could possibly +have had force enough to keep her for a whole evening from the +bridge-table. That dinner <i>en famille</i>, so Miss Mapp sarcastically +reflected—what if it was the first of hundreds of similar dinners +<i>en famille</i>? Perhaps, when safely married, Susan would ask her to one +of the family dinners, with a glassful of foam which she called +champagne, and the leg of a crow which she called game from the +shooting-lodge… There was no use in denying that Mr. Wyse seemed +to be swallowing flattery and any other form of bait as fast as they +were supplied him; never had he been so made up to since the day, now +two years ago, when Miss Mapp herself wrote him down as uncapturable. +But now, on this awful evening of crimson-lake, it seemed only prudent +to face the prospect of his falling into the nets which were spread for +him… Susan the sister-in-law of a Contessa. Susan the wife of the +man whose urbanity made all Tilling polite to each other, Susan a Wyse +of Whitchurch! It made Miss Mapp feel positively weary of earth…</p> + +<p>Nor was this the sum of Miss Mapp’s mental activities, as she sat +being dummy to Diva, for, in addition to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +rage, despair and disgust with which these various topics filled her, +she had narrowly to watch Diva’s play, in order, at the end, to +point out to her with lucid firmness all the mistakes she had made, +while with snorts and sniffs and muttered exclamations and jerks of the +head and pullings-out of cards and puttings of them back with amazing +assertions that she had not quitted them, she wrestled with the task she +had set herself of getting two no-trumps. It was impossible to count the +tricks that Diva made, for she had a habit of putting her elbow on them +after she had raked them in, as if in fear that her adversaries would +filch them when she was not looking, and Miss Mapp, distracted with +other interests, forgot that no-trumps had been declared and thought it +was hearts, of which Diva played several after their adversaries’ +hands were quite denuded of them. She often did that “to make +sure.”</p> + +<p>“Three tricks,” she said triumphantly at the conclusion, +counting the cards in the cache below her elbow.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp gave a long sigh, but remembered that Mr. Wyse was present.</p> + +<p>“You could have got two more,” she said, “if you +hadn’t played those hearts, dear. You would have been able to +trump Major Benjy’s club and the Padre’s diamond, and we +should have gone out. Never mind, you played it beautifully +otherwise.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t trump when it’s no trumps,” said Diva, +forgetting that Mr. Wyse was there. “That’s nonsense. Got +three tricks. Did go out. Did you think it was hearts? +Wasn’t.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp naturally could not demean herself to take any notice of this.</p> + +<p>“Your deal, is it, Major Benjy?” she asked. “Me to +cut?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +Diva had remembered just after her sharp speech to her partner that Mr. +Wyse was present, and looked towards the sofa to see if there were any +indications of pained surprise on his face which might indicate that he +had heard. But what she saw there—or, to be more accurate, what +she failed to see there—forced her to give an exclamation which +caused Miss Mapp to look round in the direction where Diva’s +bulging eyes were glued… There was no doubt whatever about it: +Mrs. Poppit and Mr. Wyse were no longer there. Unless they were under +the sofa they had certainly left the room together and altogether. Had +she gone to put on her sable coat on this hot night? Was Mr. Wyse +staggering under its weight as he fitted her into it? Miss Mapp rejected +the supposition; they had gone to another room to converse more +privately. This looked very black indeed, and she noted the time on the +clock in order to ascertain, when they came back, how long they had been +absent.</p> + +<p>The rubber went on its wild way, relieved from the restraining influence +of Mr. Wyse, and when, thirty-nine minutes afterwards, it came to its +conclusion and neither the hostess nor Mr. Wyse had returned, Miss Mapp +was content to let Diva muddle herself madly, adding up the score with +the assistance of her fingers, and went across to the other table till +she should be called back to check her partner’s figures. They +would be certain to need checking.</p> + +<p>“Has Mr. Wyse gone away already, dear Isabel?” she said. +“How early!”</p> + +<p>(“And four makes nine,” muttered Diva, getting to her little +finger.)</p> + +<p>Isabel was dummy, and had time for conversation.</p> + +<p>“I think he has only gone with Mamma into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +conservatory,” she said—“no more diamonds, +partner?—to advise her about the orchids.”</p> + +<p>Now the conservatory was what Miss Mapp considered a potting-shed with a +glass roof, and the orchids were one anæmic odontoglossum, and +there would scarcely be room besides that for Mrs. Poppit and Mr. Wyse. +The potting-shed was visible from the drawing-room window, over which +curtains were drawn.</p> + +<p>“Such a lovely night,” said Miss Mapp. “And while Diva +is checking the score may I have a peep at the stars, dear? So fond of +the sweet stars.”</p> + +<p>She glided to the window (conscious that Diva was longing to glide too, +but was preparing to quarrel with the Major’s score) and took her +peep at the sweet stars. The light from the hall shone full into the +potting-shed, but there was nobody there. She made quite sure of that.</p> + +<p>Diva had heard about the sweet stars, and for the first time in her life +made no objection to her adversaries’ total.</p> + +<p>“You’re right, Major Flint, eighteen-pence,” she said. +“Stupid of me: I’ve left my handkerchief in the pocket of my +cloak. I’ll pop out and get it. Back in a minute. Cut again for +partners.”</p> + +<p>She trundled to the door and popped out of it before Miss Mapp had the +slightest chance of intercepting her progress. This was bitter, because +the dining-room opened out of the hall, and so did the book-cupboard +with a window which dear Susan called her boudoir. Diva was quite +capable of popping into both of these apartments. In fact, if the +truants were there, it was no use bothering about the sweet stars any +more, and Diva would already have won…</p> + +<p>There was a sweet moon as well, and just as baffled Miss Mapp was +turning away from the window, she saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +that which made her positively glue her nose to the cold window-pane, +and tuck the curtain in, so that her silhouette should not be visible +from outside. Down the middle of the garden path came the two truants, +Susan in her sables and Mr. Wyse close beside her with his coat-collar +turned up. Her ample form with the small round head on the top looked +like a short-funnelled locomotive engine, and he like the driver on the +foot-plate. The perfidious things had said they were going to consult +over the orchid. Did orchids grow on the lawn? It was news to Miss Mapp +if they did.</p> + +<p>They stopped, and Mr. Wyse quite clearly pointed to some celestial +object, moon or star, and they both gazed at it. The sight of two such +middle-aged people behaving like this made Miss Mapp feel quite sick, +but she heroically continued a moment more at her post. Her heroism was +rewarded, for immediately after the inspection of the celestial object, +they turned and inspected each other. And Mr. Wyse kissed her.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp “scriggled” from behind the curtain into the room +again.</p> + +<p>“Aldebaran!” she said. “So lovely!”</p> + +<p>Simultaneously Diva re-entered with her handkerchief, thwarted and +disappointed, for she had certainly found nobody either in the boudoir +or in the dining-room. But there was going to be a sit-down supper, and +as Boon was not there, she had taken a <i>marron glacé</i>.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp was flushed with excitement and disgust, and almost forgot +about Diva’s gown.</p> + +<p>“Found your hanky, dear?” she said. “Then shall we cut +for partners again? You and me, Major Benjy. Don’t scold me if I +play wrong.”</p> + +<p>She managed to get a seat that commanded a full-face<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +view of the door, for the next thing was to see how “the young +couple” (as she had already labelled them in her sarcastic mind) +“looked” when they returned from their amorous excursion to +the orchid that grew on the lawn. They entered, most unfortunately, +while she was in the middle of playing a complicated hand, and her brain +was so switched off from the play by their entrance that she completely +lost the thread of what she was doing, and threw away two tricks that +simply required to be gathered up by her, but now lurked below +Diva’s elbow. What made it worse was that no trace of emotion, no +heightened colour, no coy and downcast eye betrayed a hint of what had +happened on the lawn. With brazen effrontery Susan informed her daughter +that Mr. Wyse thought a little leaf-mould…</p> + +<p>“What a liar!” thought Miss Mapp, and triumphantly put her +remaining trump on to her dummy’s best card. Then she prepared to +make the best of it.</p> + +<p>“We’ve lost three, I’m afraid, Major Benjy,” she +said. “Don’t you think you overbid your hand just a little +wee bit?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about that, Miss Elizabeth,” said the +Major. “If you hadn’t let those two spades go, and +hadn’t trumped my best heart——”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp interrupted with her famous patter.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but if I had taken the spades,” she said quickly, +“I should have had to lead up to Diva’s clubs, and then they +would have got the rough in diamonds, and I should have never been able +to get back into your hand again. Then at the end if I hadn’t +trumped your heart, I should have had to lead the losing spade and Diva +would have over-trumped; and brought in her club, and we should have +gone down two more. If you follow me, I think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +you’ll agree that I was right to do that. But all good players +overbid their hands sometimes, Major Benjy. Such fun!”</p> + +<p>The supper was unusually ostentatious, but Miss Mapp saw the reason for +that; it was clear that Susan wanted to impress poor Mr. Wyse with her +wealth, and probably when it came to settlements, he would learn some +very unpleasant news. But there were agreeable little circumstances to +temper her dislike of this extravagant display, for she was hungry, and +Diva, always a gross feeder, spilt some hot chocolate sauce on the +crimson-lake, which, if indelible, might supply a solution to the +problem of what was to be done now about her own frock. She kept an eye, +too, on Captain Puffin, to see if he showed any signs of improvement in +the direction she had indicated to him in her interview, and was +rejoiced to see that one of these glances was clearly the cause of his +refusing a second glass of port. He had already taken the stopper out of +the decanter when their eyes met … and then he put it back again. +Improvement already!</p> + +<p>Everything else (pending the discovery as to whether chocolate on +crimson-lake spelt ruin) now faded into a middle distance, while the +affairs of Susan and poor Mr. Wyse occupied the entire foreground of +Miss Mapp’s consciousness. Mean and cunning as Susan’s +conduct must have been in entrapping Mr. Wyse when others had failed to +gain his affection, Miss Mapp felt that it would be only prudent to +continue on the most amicable of terms with her, for as future +sister-in-law to a countess, and wife to the man who by the mere +exercise of his presence could make Tilling sit up and behave, she would +doubtless not hesitate about giving Miss Mapp some nasty ones back if +retaliation demanded. It was dreadful to think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +that this audacious climber was so soon to belong to the Wyses of +Whitchurch, but since the moonlight had revealed that such was Mr. +Wyse’s intention, it was best to be friends with the Mammon of the +British Empire. Poppit-cum-Wyse was likely to be a very important centre +of social life in Tilling, when not in Scotland or Whitchurch or Capri, +and Miss Mapp wisely determined that even the announcement of the +engagement should not induce her to give voice to the very proper +sentiments which it could not help inspiring.</p> + +<p>After all she had done for Susan, in letting the door of high-life in +Tilling swing open for her when she could not possibly keep it shut any +longer, it seemed only natural that, if she only kept on good terms with +her now, Susan would insist that her dear Elizabeth must be the first to +be told of the engagement. This made her pause before adopting the +obvious course of setting off immediately after breakfast next morning, +and telling all her friends, under promise of secrecy, just what she had +seen in the moonlight last night. Thrilling to the narrator as such an +announcement would be, it would be even more thrilling, provided only +that Susan had sufficient sense of decency to tell her of the engagement +before anybody else, to hurry off to all the others and inform them that +she had known of it ever since the night of the bridge-party.</p> + +<p>It was important, therefore, to be at home whenever there was the +slightest chance of Susan coming round with her news, and Miss Mapp sat +at her window the whole of that first morning, so as not to miss her, +and hardly attended at all to the rest of the pageant of life that moved +within the radius of her observation. Her heart beat fast when, about +the middle of the morning, Mr. Wyse came round the dentist’s +corner, for it might be that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +bashful Susan had sent him to make the announcement, but, if so, he was +bashful too, for he walked by her house without pause. He looked rather +worried, she thought (as well he might), and passing on he disappeared +round the church corner, clearly on his way to his betrothed. He carried +a square parcel in his hand, about as big as some jewel-case that might +contain a tiara. Half an hour afterwards, however, he came back, still +carrying the tiara. It occurred to her that the engagement might have +been broken off… A little later, again with a quickened pulse, +Miss Mapp saw the Royce lumber down from the church corner. It stopped +at her house, and she caught a glimpse of sables within. This time she +felt certain that Susan had come with her interesting news, and waited +till Withers, having answered the door, came to inquire, no doubt, +whether she would see Mrs. Poppit. But, alas, a minute later the Royce +lumbered on, carrying the additional weight of the Christmas number of +<i>Punch</i>, which Miss Mapp had borrowed last night and had not, of course, +had time to glance at yet.</p> + +<p>Anticipation is supposed to be pleasanter than any fulfilment, however +agreeable, and if that is the case, Miss Mapp during the next day or two +had more enjoyment than the announcement of fifty engagements could have +given her, so constantly (when from the garden-room she heard the sound +of the knocker on her front door) did she spring up in certainty that +this was Susan, which it never was. But however enjoyable it all might +be, she appeared to herself at least to be suffering tortures of +suspense, through which by degrees an idea, painful and revolting in the +extreme, yet strangely exhilarating, began to insinuate itself into her +mind. There seemed a deadly probability of the correctness of the +conjecture, as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +week went by without further confirmation of that kiss, for, after all, +who knew anything about the character and antecedents of Susan? As for +Mr. Wyse, was he not a constant visitor to the fierce and fickle South, +where, as everyone knew, morality was wholly extinct? And how, if it was +all too true, should Tilling treat this hitherto unprecedented +situation? It was terrible to contemplate this moral upheaval, which +might prove to be a social upheaval also. Time and again, as Miss Mapp +vainly waited for news, she was within an ace of communicating her +suspicions to the Padre. He ought to know, for Christmas (as was usual +in December) was daily drawing nearer…</p> + +<p>There came some half-way through that month a dark and ominous +afternoon, the rain falling sad and thick, and so unusual a density of +cloud dwelling in the upper air that by three o’clock Miss Mapp +was quite unable, until the street lamp at the corner was lit, to carry +out the minor duty of keeping an eye on the houses of Captain Puffin and +Major Benjy. The Royce had already lumbered by her door since +lunch-time, but so dark was it that, peer as she might, it was lost in +the gloom before it came to the dentist’s corner, and Miss Mapp +had to face the fact that she really did not know whether it had turned +into the street where Susan’s lover lived or had gone straight on. +It was easier to imagine the worst, and she had already pictured to +herself a clandestine meeting between those passionate ones, who under +cover of this darkness were imperviously concealed from any observation +(beneath an umbrella) from her house-roof. Nothing but a powerful +searchlight could reveal what was going on in the drawing-room window of +Mr. Wyse’s house, and apart from the fact that she had not got a +powerful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +searchlight, it was strongly improbable that anything of a very intimate +nature was going on there … it was not likely that they would +choose the drawing-room window. She thought of calling on Mr. Wyse and +asking for the loan of a book, so that she would see whether the sables +were in the hall, but even then she would not really be much further on. +Even as she considered this a sea-mist began to creep through the street +outside, and in a few minutes it was blotted from view. Nothing was +visible, and nothing audible but the hissing of the shrouded rain.</p> + +<p>Suddenly from close outside came the sound of a door-knocker imperiously +plied, which could be no other than her own. Only a telegram or some +urgent errand could bring anyone out on such a day, and unable to bear +the suspense of waiting till Withers had answered it, she hurried into +the house to open the door herself. Was the news of the engagement +coming to her at last? Late though it was, she would welcome it even +now, for it would atone, in part at any rate… It was Diva.</p> + +<p>“Diva dear!” said Miss Mapp enthusiastically, for Withers +was already in the hall. “How sweet of you to come round. Anything +special?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Diva, opening her eyes very wide, and spreading +a shower of moisture as she whisked off her mackintosh. +“She’s come.”</p> + +<p>This could not refer to Susan…</p> + +<p>“Who?” asked Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>“Faradiddleony,” said Diva.</p> + +<p>“No!” said Miss Mapp very loud, so much interested that she +quite forgot to resent Diva’s being the first to have the news. +“Let’s have a comfortable cup of tea in the garden-room. +Tea, Withers.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +Miss Mapp lit the candles there, for, lost in meditation, she had been +sitting in the dark, and with reckless hospitality poked the fire to +make it blaze.</p> + +<p>“Tell me all about it,” she said. That would be a treat for +Diva, who was such a gossip.</p> + +<p>“Went to the station just now,” said Diva. “Wanted a +new time-table. Besides the Royce had just gone down. Mr. Wyse and Susan +on the platform.”</p> + +<p>“Sables?” asked Miss Mapp parenthetically, to complete the +picture.</p> + +<p>“Swaddled. Talked to them. Train came in. Woman got out. Kissed +Mr. Wyse. Shook hands with Susan. Both hands. While luggage was got +out.”</p> + +<p>“Much?” asked Miss Mapp quickly.</p> + +<p>“Hundreds. Covered with coronets and Fs. Two cabs.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp’s mind, on a hot scent, went back to the previous +telegraphic utterance.</p> + +<p>“Both hands did you say, dear?” she asked. “Perhaps +that’s the Italian fashion.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe. Then what else do you think? Faradiddleony kissed Susan! +Mr. Wyse and she must be engaged. I can’t account for it any other +way. He must have written to tell his sister. Couldn’t have told +her then at the station. Must have been engaged some days and we never +knew. They went to look at the orchid. Remember? That was when.”</p> + +<p>It was bitter, no doubt, but the bitterness could be transmuted into an +amazing sweetness.</p> + +<p>“Then now I can speak,” said Miss Mapp with a sigh of great +relief. “Oh, it has been so hard keeping silence, but I felt I +ought to. I knew all along, Diva dear, all, all along.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +“How?” asked Diva with a fallen crest.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>“I looked out of the window, dear, while you went for your hanky +and peeped into dining-room and boudoir, didn’t you? There they +were on the lawn, and they kissed each other. So I said to myself: +‘Dear Susan has got him! Perseverance rewarded!’”</p> + +<p>“H’m. Only a guess of yours. Or did Susan tell you?”</p> + +<p>“No, dear, she said nothing. But Susan was always +secretive.”</p> + +<p>“But they might not have been engaged at all,” said Diva +with a brightened eye. “Man doesn’t always marry a woman he +kisses!”</p> + +<p>Diva had betrayed the lowness of her mind now by hazarding that which +had for days dwelt in Miss Mapp’s mind as almost certain. She drew +in her breath with a hissing noise as if in pain.</p> + +<p>“Darling, what a dreadful suggestion,” she said. “No +such idea ever occurred to me. Secretive I thought Susan might be, but +immoral, never. I must forget you ever thought that. Let’s talk +about something less painful. Perhaps you would like to tell me more +about the Contessa.”</p> + +<p>Diva had the grace to look ashamed of herself, and to take refuge in the +new topic so thoughtfully suggested.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t see clearly,” she said. “So dark. But +tall and lean. Sneezed.”</p> + +<p>“That might happen to anybody, dear,” said Miss Mapp, +"whether tall or short. Nothing more?”</p> + +<p>“An eyeglass,” said Diva after thought.</p> + +<p>“A single one?” asked Miss Mapp. “On a string? How +strange for a woman.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +That seemed positively the last atom of Diva’s knowledge, and +though Miss Mapp tried on the principles of psycho-analysis to disinter +something she had forgotten, the catechism led to no results whatever. +But Diva had evidently something else to say, for after finishing her +tea she whizzed backwards and forwards from window to fireplace with +little grunts and whistles, as was her habit when she was struggling +with utterance. Long before it came out, Miss Mapp had, of course, +guessed what it was. No wonder Diva found difficulty in speaking of a +matter in which she had behaved so deplorably…</p> + +<p>“About that wretched dress,” she said at length. “Got +it stained with chocolate first time I wore it, and neither I nor Janet +can get it out.”</p> + +<p>(“Hurrah,” thought Miss Mapp.)</p> + +<p>“Must have it dyed again,” continued Diva. “Thought +I’d better tell you. Else you might have yours dyed the same +colour as mine again. Kingfisher-blue to crimson-lake. All came out of +Vogue and Mrs. Trout. Rather funny, you know, but expensive. You should +have seen your face, Elizabeth, when you came in to Susan’s the +other night.”</p> + +<p>“Should I, dearest?” said Miss Mapp, trembling violently.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Wouldn’t have gone home with you in the dark for +anything. Murder.”</p> + +<p>“Diva dear,” said Miss Mapp anxiously, “you’ve +got a mind which likes to put the worst construction on everything. If +Mr. Wyse kisses his intended you think things too terrible for words; if +I look surprised you think I’m full of hatred and malice. Be more +generous, dear. Don’t put evil constructions on all you +see.”</p> + +<p>“Ho!” said Diva with a world of meaning.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +“I don’t know what you intend to convey by ho,” said +Miss Mapp, “and I shan’t try to guess. But be kinder, +darling, and it will make you happier. Thinketh no evil, you know! +Charity!”</p> + +<p>Diva felt that the limit of what was tolerable was reached when +Elizabeth lectured her on the need of charity, and she would no doubt +have explained tersely and unmistakably exactly what she meant by +“Ho!” had not Withers opportunely entered to clear away tea. +She brought a note with her, which Miss Mapp opened. “Encourage me +to hope,” were the first words that met her eye: Mrs. Poppit had +been encouraging him to hope again.</p> + +<p>“To dine at Mr. Wyse’s to-morrow,” she said. “No +doubt the announcement will be made then. He probably wrote it before he +went to the station. Yes, a few friends. You going, dear?”</p> + +<p>Diva instantly got up.</p> + +<p>“Think I’ll run home and see,” she said. “By the +by, Elizabeth, what about the—the teagown, if I go? You or +I?”</p> + +<p>“If yours is all covered with chocolate, I shouldn’t think +you’d like to wear it,” said Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>“Could tuck it away,” said Diva, “just for once. Put +flowers. Then send it to dyer’s. You won’t see it again. Not +crimson-lake, I mean.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp summoned the whole of her magnanimity. It had been put to a +great strain already and was tired out, but it was capable of one more +effort.</p> + +<p>“Wear it then,” she said. “It’ll be a treat to +you. But let me know if you’re not asked. I daresay Mr. Wyse will +want to keep it very small. Good-bye, dear; I’m afraid +you’ll get very wet going home.”</p> + +<hr /><p class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p>The sea-mist and the rain continued without intermission next morning, +but shopping with umbrellas and mackintoshes was unusually brisk, for +there was naturally a universally felt desire to catch sight of a +Contessa with as little delay as possible. The foggy conditions perhaps +added to the excitement, for it was not possible to see more than a few +yards, and thus at any moment anybody might almost run into her. +Diva’s impressions, meagre though they were, had been thoroughly +circulated, but the morning passed, and the ladies of Tilling went home +to change their wet things and take a little ammoniated quinine as a +precaution after so long and chilly an exposure, without a single one of +them having caught sight of the single eyeglass. It was disappointing, +but the disappointment was bearable since Mr. Wyse, so far from wanting +his party to be very small, had been encouraged by Mrs. Poppit to hope +that it would include all his world of Tilling with one exception. He +had hopes with regard to the Major and the Captain, and the Padre and +wee wifie, and Irene and Miss Mapp, and of course Isabel. But apparently +he despaired of Diva.</p> + +<p>She alone therefore was absent from this long, wet shopping, for she +waited indoors, almost pen in hand, to answer in the affirmative the +invitation which had at present not arrived. Owing to the thickness of +the fog, her absence from the street passed unnoticed, for everybody +supposed that everybody else had seen her, while she, biting her nails +at home, waited and waited and waited. Then she waited. About a quarter +past one she gave it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +up, and duly telephoned, according to promise, viâ Janet and +Withers, to Miss Mapp to say that Mr. Wyse had not yet hoped. It was +very unpleasant to let them know, but if she had herself rung up and +been answered by Elizabeth, who usually rushed to the telephone, she +felt that she would sooner have choked than have delivered this message. +So Janet telephoned and Withers said she would tell her mistress. And +did.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp was steeped in pleasant conjectures. The most likely of all +was that the Contessa had seen that roundabout little busybody in the +station, and taken an instant dislike to her through her single +eyeglass. Or she might have seen poor Diva inquisitively inspecting the +luggage with the coronets and the Fs on it, and have learned with pain +that this was one of the ladies of Tilling. “Algernon,” she +would have said (so said Miss Mapp to herself), “who is that queer +little woman? Is she going to steal some of my luggage?” And then +Algernon would have told her that this was poor Diva, quite a decent +sort of little body. But when it came to Algernon asking his guests for +the dinner-party in honour of his betrothal and her arrival at Tilling, +no doubt the Contessa would have said, “Algernon, I beg… +“ Or if Diva—poor Diva—was right in her conjectures +that the notes had been written before the arrival of the train, it was +evident that Algernon had torn up the one addressed to Diva, when the +Contessa heard whom she was to meet the next evening… Or Susan +might easily have insinuated that they would have two very pleasant +tables of bridge after dinner without including Diva, who was so wrong +and quarrelsome over the score. Any of these explanations were quite +satisfactory, and since Diva would not be present, Miss Mapp would +naturally don the crimson-lake. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +would all see what crimson-lake looked like when it decked a suitable +wearer and was not parodied on the other side of a card-table. How true, +as dear Major Benjy had said, that one woman could wear what another +could not… And if there was a woman who could not wear +crimson-lake it was Diva… Or was Mr. Wyse really ashamed to let +his sister see Diva in the crimson-lake? It would be just like him to be +considerate of Diva, and not permit her to make a guy of herself before +the Italian aristocracy. No doubt he would ask her to lunch some day, +quite quietly. Or had … Miss Mapp bloomed with pretty +conjectures, like some Alpine meadow when smitten into flower by the +spring, and enjoyed her lunch very much indeed.</p> + +<p>The anxiety and suspense of the morning, which, instead of being +relieved, had ended in utter gloom, gave Diva a headache, and she +adopted her usual strenuous methods of getting rid of it. So, instead of +lying down and taking aspirin and dozing, she set out after lunch to +walk it off. She sprinted and splashed along the miry roads, indifferent +as to whether she stepped in puddles or not, and careless how wet she +got. She bit on the bullet of her omission from the dinner-party this +evening, determining not to mind one atom about it, but to look forward +to a pleasant evening at home instead of going out (like this) in the +wet. And never—never under any circumstances would she ask any of +the guests what sort of an evening had been spent, how Mr. Wyse +announced the news, and how the Faradiddleony played bridge. (She said +that satirical word aloud, mouthing it to the puddles and the dripping +hedge-rows.) She would not evince the slightest interest in it all; she +would cover it with spadefuls of oblivion, and when next she met<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +Mr. Wyse she would, whatever she might feel, behave exactly as usual. +She plumed herself on this dignified resolution, and walked so fast that +the hedge-rows became quite transparent. That was the proper thing to +do; she had been grossly slighted, and, like a true lady, would be +unaware of that slight; whereas poor Elizabeth, under such +circumstances, would have devised a hundred petty schemes for rendering +Mr. Wyse’s life a burden to him. But if—if (she only said +“if”) she found any reason to believe that Susan was at the +bottom of this, then probably she would think of something worthy not so +much of a true lady but of a true woman. Without asking any questions, +she might easily arrive at information which would enable her to +identify Susan as the culprit, and she would then act in some way which +would astonish Susan. What that way was she need not think yet, and so +she devoted her entire mind to the question all the way home.</p> + +<p>Feeling better and with her headache quite gone, she arrived in Tilling +again drenched to the skin. It was already after tea-time, and she +abandoned tea altogether, and prepared to console herself for her +exclusion from gaiety with a “good blow-out” in the shape of +regular dinner, instead of the usual muffin now and a tray later. To add +dignity to her feast, she put on the crimson-lake tea-gown for the last +time that it would be crimson-lake (though the same tea-gown still), +since to-morrow it would be sent to the dyer’s to go into +perpetual mourning for its vanished glories. She had meant to send it +to-day, but all this misery and anxiety had put it out of her head.</p> + +<p>Having dressed thus, to the great astonishment of Janet, she sat down to +divert her mind from trouble by Patience. As if to reward her for her +stubborn fortitude,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +the malignity of the cards relented, and she brought out an intricate +matter three times running. The clock on her mantelpiece chiming a +quarter to eight, surprised her with the lateness of the hour, and +recalled to her with a stab of pain that it was dinner-time at Mr. +Wyse’s, and at this moment some seven pairs of eager feet were +approaching the door. Well, she was dining at a quarter to eight, too; +Janet would enter presently to tell her that her own banquet was ready, +and gathering up her cards, she spent a pleasant though regretful minute +in looking at herself and the crimson-lake for the last time in her long +glass. The tremendous walk in the rain had given her an almost equally +high colour. Janet’s foot was heard on the stairs, and she turned +away from the glass. Janet entered.</p> + +<p>“Dinner?” said Diva.</p> + +<p>“No, ma’am, the telephone,” said Janet. “Mr. +Wyse is on the telephone, and wants to speak to you very +particularly.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wyse himself?” asked Diva, hardly believing her ears, +for she knew Mr. Wyse’s opinion of the telephone.</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p> + +<p>Diva walked slowly, but reflected rapidly. What must have happened was +that somebody had been taken ill at the last moment—was it +Elizabeth?—and that he now wanted her to fill the gap… She +was torn in two. Passionately as she longed to dine at Mr. Wyse’s, +she did not see how such a course was compatible with dignity. He had +only asked her to suit his own convenience; it was not out of +encouragement to hope that he invited her now. No; Mr. Wyse should want. +She would say that she had friends dining with her; that was what the +true lady would do.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +She took up the ear-piece and said, “Hullo!”</p> + +<p>It was certainly Mr. Wyse’s voice that spoke to her, and it seemed +to tremble with anxiety.</p> + +<p>“Dear lady,” he began, “a most terrible thing has +happened——”</p> + +<p>(Wonder if Elizabeth’s very ill, thought Diva.)</p> + +<p>“Quite terrible,” said Mr. Wyse. “Can you hear?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Diva, hardening her heart.</p> + +<p>“By the most calamitous mistake the note which I wrote you +yesterday was never delivered. Figgis has just found it in the pocket of +his overcoat. I shall certainly dismiss him unless you plead for him. +Can you hear?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Diva excitedly.</p> + +<p>“In it I told you that I had been encouraged to hope that you +would dine with me to-night. There was such a gratifying response to my +other invitations that I most culpably and carelessly, dear lady, +thought that everybody had accepted. Can you hear?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I can!” shouted Diva.</p> + +<p>“Well, I come on my knees to you. Can you possibly forgive the +joint stupidity of Figgis and me, and honour me after all? We will put +dinner off, of course. At what time, in case you are ever so kind and +indulgent as to come, shall we have it? Do not break my heart by +refusing. Su—Mrs. Poppit will send her car for you.”</p> + +<p>“I have already dressed for dinner,” said Diva proudly. +“Very pleased to come at once.”</p> + +<p>“You are too kind; you are angelic,” said Mr. Wyse. +“The car shall start at once; it is at my door now.”</p> + +<p>“Right,” said Diva.</p> + +<p>“Too good—too kind,” murmured Mr. Wyse. “Figgis, +what do I do next?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +Diva clapped the instrument into place.</p> + +<p>“Powder,” she said to herself, remembering what she had seen +in the glass, and whizzed upstairs. Her fish would have to be degraded +into kedgeree, though plaice would have done just as well as sole for +that; the cutlets could be heated up again, and perhaps the whisking for +the apple-meringue had not begun yet, and could still be stopped.</p> + +<p>“Janet!” she shouted. “Going out to dinner! Stop the +meringue.”</p> + +<p>She dashed an interesting pallor on to her face as she heard the hooting +of the Royce, and coming downstairs, stepped into its warm +luxuriousness, for the electric lamp was burning. There were +Susan’s sables there—it was thoughtful of Susan to put them +in, but ostentatious—and there was a carriage rug, which she was +convinced was new, and was very likely a present from Mr. Wyse. And soon +there was the light streaming out from Mr. Wyse’s open door, and +Mr. Wyse himself in the hall to meet and greet and thank and bless her. +She pleaded for the contrite Figgis, and was conducted in a blaze of +triumph into the drawing-room, where all Tilling was awaiting her. She +was led up to the Contessa, with whom Miss Mapp, wreathed in sycophantic +smiles, was eagerly conversing.</p> + +<p>The crimson-lakes…</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>There were embarrassing moments during dinner; the Contessa confused by +having so many people introduced to her in a lump, got all their names +wrong, and addressed her neighbours as Captain Flint and Major Puffin, +and thought that Diva was Mrs. Mapp. She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +seemed vivacious and good-humoured, dropped her eye-glass into her soup, +talked with her mouth full, and drank a good deal of wine, which was a +very bad example for Major Puffin. Then there were many sudden and +complete pauses in the talk, for Diva’s news of the kissing of +Mrs. Poppit by the Contessa had spread like wildfire through the fog +this morning, owing to Miss Mapp’s dissemination of it, and now, +whenever Mr. Wyse raised his voice ever so little, everybody else +stopped talking, in the expectation that the news was about to be +announced. Occasionally, also, the Contessa addressed some remark to her +brother in shrill and voluble Italian, which rather confirmed the gloomy +estimate of her table-manners in the matter of talking with her mouth +full, for to speak in Italian was equivalent to whispering, since the +purport of what she said could not be understood by anybody except +him… Then also, the sensation of dining with a countess produced +a slight feeling of strain, which, in addition to the correct behaviour +which Mr. Wyse’s presence always induced, almost congealed +correctness into stiffness. But as dinner went on her evident enjoyment +of herself made itself felt, and her eccentricities, though carefully +observed and noted by Miss Mapp, were not succeeded by silences and +hurried bursts of conversation.</p> + +<p>“And is your ladyship making a long stay in Tilling?” asked +the (real) Major, to cover the pause which had been caused by Mr. Wyse +saying something across the table to Isabel.</p> + +<p>She dropped her eye-glass with quite a splash into her gravy, pulled it +out again by the string as if landing a fish and sucked it.</p> + +<p>“That depends on you gentlemen,” she said with greater +audacity than was usual in Tilling. “If you and Major<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +Puffin and that sweet little Scotch clergyman all fall in love with me, +and fight duels about me, I will stop for ever…”</p> + +<p>The Major recovered himself before anybody else.</p> + +<p>“Your ladyship may take that for granted,” he said +gallantly, and a perfect hubbub of conversation rose to cover this awful +topic.</p> + +<p>She laid her hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>“You must not call me ladyship, Captain Flint,” she said. +“Only servants say that. Contessa, if you like. And you must blow +away this fog for me. I have seen nothing but bales of cotton-wool out +of the window. Tell me this, too: why are those ladies dressed alike? +Are they sisters? Mrs. Mapp, the little round one, and her sister, the +big round one?”</p> + +<p>The Major cast an apprehensive eye on Miss Mapp seated just opposite, +whose acuteness of hearing was one of the terrors of Tilling… His +apprehensions were perfectly well founded, and Miss Mapp hated and +despised the Contessa from that hour.</p> + +<p>“No, not sisters,” said he, “and your +la—you’ve made a little error about the names. The one +opposite is Miss Mapp, the other Mrs. Plaistow.”</p> + +<p>The Contessa moderated her voice.</p> + +<p>“I see; she looks vexed, your Miss Mapp. I think she must have +heard, and I will be very nice to her afterwards. Why does not one of +you gentlemen marry her? I see I shall have to arrange that. The sweet +little Scotch clergyman now; little men like big wives. Ah! Married +already is he to the mouse? Then it must be you, Captain Flint. We must +have more marriages in Tilling.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp could not help glancing at the Contessa, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +she made this remarkable observation. It must be the cue, she thought, +for the announcement of that which she had known so long… In the +space of a wink the clever Contessa saw that she had her attention, and +spoke rather loudly to the Major.</p> + +<p>“I have lost my heart to your Miss Mapp,” she said. “I +am jealous of you, Captain Flint. She will be my great friend in +Tilling, and if you marry her, I shall hate you, for that will mean that +she likes you best.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp hated nobody at that moment, not even Diva, off whose face the +hastily-applied powder was crumbling, leaving little red marks peeping +out like the stars on a fine evening. Dinner came to an end with roasted +chestnuts brought by the Contessa from Capri.</p> + +<p>“I always scold Amelia for the luggage she takes with her,” +said Mr. Wyse to Diva. “Amelia dear, you are my hostess +to-night”—everybody saw him look at Mrs. +Poppit—“you must catch somebody’s eye.”</p> + +<p>“I will catch Miss Mapp’s,” said Amelia, and all the +ladies rose as if connected with some hidden mechanism which moved them +simultaneously… There was a great deal of pretty diffidence at +the door, but the Contessa put an end to that.</p> + +<p>“Eldest first,” she said, and marched out, making Miss Mapp, +Diva and the mouse feel remarkably young. She might drop her eye-glass +and talk with her mouth full, but really such tact… They all +determined to adopt this pleasing device in the future. The +disappointment about the announcement of the engagement was sensibly +assuaged, and Miss Mapp and Susan, in their eagerness to be younger than +the Contessa, and yet take precedence of all the rest, almost stuck in +the doorway. They rebounded from each other, and Diva whizzed out +between them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +Quaint Irene went in her right place—last. However quaint Irene +was, there was no use in pretending that she was not the youngest.</p> + +<p>However hopelessly Amelia had lost her heart to Miss Mapp, she did not +devote her undivided attention to her in the drawing-room, but swiftly +established herself at the card-table, where she proceeded, with a most +complicated sort of Patience and a series of cigarettes, to while away +the time till the gentlemen joined them. Though the ladies of Tilling +had plenty to say to each other, it was all about her, and such comments +could not conveniently be made in her presence. Unless, like her, they +talked some language unknown to the subject of their conversation, they +could not talk at all, and so they gathered round her table, and watched +the lightning rapidity with which she piled black knaves on red queens +in some packs and red knaves on black queens in others. She had taken +off all her rings in order to procure a greater freedom of finger, and +her eye-glass continued to crash on to a glittering mass of magnificent +gems. The rapidity of her motions was only equalled by the swift and +surprising monologue that poured from her mouth.</p> + +<p>“There, that odious king gets in my way,” she said. +“So like a man to poke himself in where he isn’t wanted. +<i>Bacco!</i> No, not that: I have a cigarette. I hear all you ladies are +terrific bridge-players: we will have a game presently, and I shall sink +into the earth with terror at your Camorra! <i>Dio!</i> there’s another +king, and that’s his own queen whom he doesn’t want at all. +He is <i>amoroso</i> for that black queen, who is quite covered up, and he +would like to be covered up with her. Susan, my dear” (that was +interesting, but they all knew it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +already), “kindly ring the bell for coffee. I expire if I do not +get my coffee at once, and a toothpick. Tell me all the scandal of +Tilling, Miss Mapp, while I play—all the dreadful histories of +that Major and that Captain. Such a grand air has the Captain—no, +it is the Major, the one who does not limp. Which of all you ladies do +they love most? It is Miss Mapp, I believe: that is why she does not +answer me. Ah! here is the coffee, and the other king: three lumps of +sugar, dear Susan, and then stir it up well, and hold it to my mouth, so +that I can drink without interruption. Ah, the ace! He is the +intervener, or is it the King’s Proctor? It would be nice to have +a proctor who told you all the love-affairs that were going on. Susan, +you must get me a proctor: you shall be my proctor. And here are the +men—the wretches, they have been preferring wine to women, and we +will have our bridge, and if anybody scolds me, I shall cry, Miss Mapp, +and Captain Flint will hold my hand and comfort me.”</p> + +<p>She gathered up a heap of cards and rings, dropped them on the floor, +and cut with the remainder.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp was very lenient with the Contessa, who was her partner, and +pointed out the mistakes of her and their adversaries with the most +winning smile and eagerness to explain things clearly. Then she revoked +heavily herself, and the Contessa, so far from being angry with her, +burst into peals of unquenchable merriment. This way of taking a revoke +was new to Tilling, for the right thing was for the revoker’s +partner to sulk and be sarcastic for at least twenty minutes after. The +Contessa’s laughter continued to spurt out at intervals during the +rest of the rubber, and it was all very pleasant; but at the end she +said she was not up to Tilling standards at all,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +and refused to play any more. Miss Mapp, in the highest good-humour, +urged her not to despair.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, dear Contessa,” she said, “you play very +well. A little overbidding of your hand, perhaps, do you think? but that +is a tendency we are all subject to: I often overbid my hand myself. Not +a little wee rubber more? I’m sure I should like to be your +partner again. You must come and play at my house some afternoon. We +will have tea early, and get a good two hours. Nothing like +practice.”</p> + +<p>The evening came to an end without the great announcement being made, +but Miss Mapp, as she reviewed the events of the party, sitting next +morning in her observation-window, found the whole evidence so +overwhelming that it was no longer worth while to form conjectures, +however fruitful, on the subject, and she diverted her mind to pleasing +reminiscences and projects for the future. She had certainly been +distinguished by the Contessa’s marked regard, and her opinion of +her charm and ability was of the very highest… No doubt her +strange remark about duelling at dinner had been humorous in intention, +but many a true word is spoken in jest, and the +Contessa—perspicacious woman—had seen at once that Major +Benjy and Captain Puffin were just the sort of men who might get to +duelling (or, at any rate, challenging) about a woman. And her asking +which of the ladies the men were most in love with, and her saying that +she believed it was Miss Mapp! Miss Mapp had turned nearly as red as +poor Diva when that came out, so lightly and yet so acutely…</p> + +<p>Diva! It had, of course, been a horrid blow to find that Diva had been +asked to Mr. Wyse’s party in the first instance, and an even +shrewder one when Diva entered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +(with such unnecessary fussing and apology on the part of Mr. Wyse) in +the crimson-lake. Luckily, it would be seen no more, for Diva had +promised—if you could trust Diva—to send it to the +dyer’s; but it was a great puzzle to know why Diva had it on at +all, if she was preparing to spend a solitary evening at home. By eight +o’clock she ought by rights to have already had her tray, dressed +in some old thing; but within three minutes of her being telephoned for +she had appeared in the crimson-lake, and eaten so heartily that it was +impossible to imagine, greedy though she was, that she had already +consumed her tray… But in spite of Diva’s adventitious +triumph, the main feeling in Miss Mapp’s mind was pity for her. +She looked so ridiculous in that dress with the powder peeling off her +red face. No wonder the dear Contessa stared when she came in.</p> + +<p>There was her bridge-party for the Contessa to consider. The Contessa +would be less nervous, perhaps, if there was only one table: that would +be more homey and cosy, and it would at the same time give rise to great +heart-burnings and indignation in the breasts of those who were left +out. Diva would certainly be one of the spurned, and the Contessa would +not play with Mr. Wyse… Then there was Major Benjy, he must +certainly be asked, for it was evident that the Contessa delighted in +him…</p> + +<p>Suddenly Miss Mapp began to feel less sure that Major Benjy must be of +the party. The Contessa, charming though she was, had said several very +tropical, Italian things to him. She had told him that she would stop +here for ever if the men fought duels about her. She had said “you +dear darling” to him at bridge when, as adversary, he failed to +trump her losing card, and she had asked him to ask her to tea +(“with no one else, for I have a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +great deal to say to you”), when the general macédoine of +sables, au reservoirs, and thanks for such a nice evening took place in +the hall. Miss Mapp was not, in fact, sure, when she thought it over, +that the Contessa was a nice friend for Major Benjy. She did not do him +the injustice of imagining that he would ask her to tea alone; the very +suggestion proved that it must be a piece of the Contessa’s +Southern extravagance of expression. But, after all, thought Miss Mapp +to herself, as she writhed at the idea, her other extravagant +expressions were proved to cover a good deal of truth. In fact, the +Major’s chance of being asked to the select bridge-party +diminished swiftly towards vanishing point.</p> + +<p>It was time (and indeed late) to set forth on morning marketings, and +Miss Mapp had already determined not to carry her capacious basket with +her to-day, in case of meeting the Contessa in the High Street. It would +be grander and Wysier and more magnificent to go basket-less, and direct +that the goods should be sent up, rather than run the risk of +encountering the Contessa with a basket containing a couple of mutton +cutlets, a ball of wool and some tooth-powder. So she put on her Prince +of Wales’s cloak, and, postponing further reflection over the +bridge-party till a less busy occasion, set forth in unencumbered +gentility for the morning gossip. At the corner of the High Street, she +ran into Diva.</p> + +<p>“News,” said Diva. “Met Mr. Wyse just now. Engaged to +Susan. All over the town by now. Everybody knows. Oh, there’s the +Padre for the first time.”</p> + +<p>She shot across the street, and Miss Mapp, shaking the dust of Diva off +her feet, proceeded on her chagrined way. Annoyed as she was with Diva, +she was almost more annoyed with Susan. After all she had done for +Susan,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +Susan ought to have told her long ago, pledging her to secrecy. But to +be told like this by that common Diva, without any secrecy at all, was +an affront that she would find it hard to forgive Susan for. She +mentally reduced by a half the sum that she had determined to squander +on Susan’s wedding-present. It should be plated, not silver, and +if Susan was not careful, it shouldn’t be plated at all.</p> + +<p>She had just come out of the chemist’s, after an indignant +interview about precipitated chalk. He had deposited the small packet on +the counter, when she asked to have it sent up to her house. He could +not undertake to deliver small packages. She left the precipitated chalk +lying there. Emerging, she heard a loud, foreign sort of scream from +close at hand. There was the Contessa, all by herself, carrying a +marketing basket of unusual size and newness. It contained a bloody +steak and a crab.</p> + +<p>“But where is your basket, Miss Mapp?” she exclaimed. +“Algernon told me that all the great ladies of Tilling went +marketing in the morning with big baskets, and that if I aspired to be +<i>du monde</i>, I must have my basket, too. It is the greatest fun, and I +have already written to Cecco to say I am just going marketing with my +basket. Look, the steak is for Figgis, and the crab is for Algernon and +me, if Figgis does not get it. But why are you not <i>du monde</i>? Are you +<i>du demi-monde</i>, Miss Mapp?”</p> + +<p>She gave a croak of laughter and tickled the crab…</p> + +<p>“Will he eat the steak, do you think?” she went on. +“Is he not lively? I went to the shop of Mr. Hopkins, who was not +there, because he was engaged with Miss Coles. And was that not Miss +Coles last night at my brother’s? The one who spat in the fire +when nobody but I was looking? You are enchanting at Tilling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +What is Mr. Hopkins doing with Miss Coles? Do they kiss? But your market +basket: that disappoints me, for Algernon said you had the biggest +market-basket of all. I bought the biggest I could find: is it as big as +yours?”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp’s head was in a whirl. The Contessa said in the loudest +possible voice all that everybody else only whispered; she displayed (in +her basket) all that everybody else covered up with thick layers of +paper. If Miss Mapp had only guessed that the Contessa would have a +market-basket, she would have paraded the High Street with a leg of +mutton protruding from one end and a pair of Wellington boots from the +other… But who could have suspected that a Contessa…</p> + +<p>Black thoughts succeeded. Was it possible that Mr. Wyse had been +satirical about the affairs of Tilling? If so, she wished him nothing +worse than to be married to Susan. But a playful face must be put, for +the moment, on the situation.</p> + +<p>“Too lovely of you, dear Contessa,” she said. “May we +go marketing together to-morrow, and we will measure the size of our +baskets? Such fun I have, too, laughing at the dear people in Tilling. +But what thrilling news this morning about our sweet Susan and your dear +brother, though of course I knew it long ago.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! how was that?” said the Contessa quite sharply.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp was “nettled” at her tone.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you must allow me two eyes,” she said, since it was +merely tedious to explain how she had seen them from behind a curtain +kissing in the garden. “Just two eyes.”</p> + +<p>“And a nose for scent,” remarked the Contessa very +genially.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +This was certainly coarse, though probably Italian. Miss Mapp’s +opinion of the Contessa fluctuated violently like a barometer before a +storm and indicated “Changeable.”</p> + +<p>“Dear Susan is such an intimate friend,” she said.</p> + +<p>The Contessa looked at her very fixedly for a moment, and then appeared +to dismiss the matter.</p> + +<p>“My crab, my steak,” she said. “And where does your +nice Captain, no, Major Flint live? I have a note to leave on him, for +he has asked me to tea all alone, to see his tiger skins. He is going to +be my flirt while I am in Tilling, and when I go he will break his +heart, but I will have told him who can mend it again.”</p> + +<p>“Dear Major Benjy!” said Miss Mapp, at her wits’ end +to know how to deal with so feather-tongued a lady. “What a treat +it will be to him to have you to tea. To-day, is it?”</p> + +<p>The Contessa quite distinctly winked behind her eyeglass, which she had +put up to look at Diva, who whirled by on the other side of the street.</p> + +<p>“And if I said ‘To-day,’” she remarked, +“you would—what is it that that one says”—and +she indicated Diva—“yes, you would pop in, and the good +Major would pay no attention to me. So if I tell you I shall go to-day, +you will know that is a lie, you clever Miss Mapp, and so you will go to +tea with him to-morrow and find me there. <i>Bene!</i> Now where is his +house?”</p> + +<p>This was a sort of scheming that had never entered into Miss +Mapp’s life, and she saw with pain how shallow she had been all +these years. Often and often she had, when inquisitive questions were +put her, answered them without any strict subservience to truth, but +never had she thought of confusing the issues like this. If she told +Diva a lie,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +Diva probably guessed it was a lie, and acted accordingly, but she had +never thought of making it practically impossible to tell whether it was +a lie or not. She had no more idea when she walked back along the High +Street with the Contessa swinging her basket by her side, whether that +lady was going to tea with Major Benjy to-day or to-morrow or when, than +she knew whether the crab was going to eat the beefsteak.</p> + +<p>“There’s his house,” she said, as they paused at the +dentist’s corner, “and there’s mine next it, with the +little bow-window of my garden-room looking out on to the street. I hope +to welcome you there, dear Contessa, for a tiny game of bridge and some +tea one of these days very soon. What day do you think? +To-morrow?”</p> + +<p>(Then she would know if the Contessa was going to tea with Major Benjy +to-morrow … unfortunately the Contessa appeared to know that she +would know it, too.)</p> + +<p>“My flirt!” she said. “Perhaps I may be having tea +with my flirt to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Better anything than that.</p> + +<p>“I will ask him, too, to meet you,” said Miss Mapp, feeling +in some awful and helpless way that she was playing her +adversary’s game. “Adversary?” did she say to herself? +She did. The inscrutable Contessa was “up to” that too.</p> + +<p>“I will not amalgamate my treats,” she said. “So that +is his house! What a charming house! How my heart flutters as I ring the +bell!”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp was now quite distraught. There was the possibility that the +Contessa might tell Major Benjy that it was time he married, but on the +other hand she was making arrangements to go to tea with him on an +unknown date, and the hero of amorous adventures in India and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +elsewhere might lose his heart again to somebody quite different from +one whom he could hope to marry. By daylight the dear Contessa was +undeniably plain: that was something, but in these short days, tea would +be conducted by artificial light, and by artificial light she was not so +like a rabbit. What was worse was that by any light she had a liveliness +which might be mistaken for wit, and a flattering manner which might be +taken for sincerity. She hoped men were not so easily duped as that, and +was sadly afraid that they were. Blind fools!</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>The number of visits that Miss Mapp made about tea-time in this week +before Christmas to the post-box at the corner of the High Street, with +an envelope in her hand containing Mr. Hopkins’s bill for fish +(and a postal order enclosed), baffles computation. Naturally, she did +not intend, either by day or night, to risk being found again with a +blank unstamped envelope in her hand, and the one enclosing Mr. +Hopkins’s bill and the postal order would have passed scrutiny for +correctness, anywhere. But fair and calm as was the exterior of that +envelope, none could tell how agitated was the hand that carried it +backwards and forwards until the edges got crumpled and the inscription +clouded with much fingering. Indeed, of all the tricks that Miss Mapp +had compassed for others, none was so sumptuously contrived as that in +which she had now entangled herself.</p> + +<p>For these December days were dark, and in consequence not only would the +Contessa be looking her best (such as it was) at tea-time, but from Miss +Mapp’s window it was impossible to tell whether she had gone to +tea with him on any particular afternoon, for there had been a strike at +the gas-works, and the lamp at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +the corner, which, in happier days, would have told all, told nothing +whatever. Miss Mapp must therefore trudge to the letter-box with Mr. +Hopkins’s bill in her hand as she went out, and (after a feint of +posting it) with it in her pocket as she came back, in order to gather +from the light in the windows, from the sound of conversation that would +be audible as she passed close beneath them, whether the Major was +having tea there or not, and with whom. Should she hear that ringing +laugh which had sounded so pleasant when she revoked, but now was so +sinister, she had quite determined to go in and borrow a book or a +tiger-skin—anything. The Major could scarcely fail to ask her to +tea, and, once there, wild horses should not drag her away until she had +outstayed the other visitor. Then, as her malady of jealousy grew more +feverish, she began to perceive, as by the ray of some dreadful dawn, +that lights in the Major’s room and sounds of elfin laughter were +not completely trustworthy as proofs that the Contessa was there. It was +possible, awfully possible, that the two might be sitting in the +firelight, that voices might be hushed to amorous whisperings, that +pregnant smiles might be taking the place of laughter. On one such +afternoon, as she came back from the letter-box with patient Mr. +Hopkins’s overdue bill in her pocket, a wild certainty seized her, +when she saw how closely the curtains were drawn, and how still it +seemed inside his room, that firelight dalliance was going on.</p> + +<p>She rang the bell, and imagined she heard whisperings inside while it +was being answered. Presently the light went up in the hall, and the +Major’s Mrs. Dominic opened the door.</p> + +<p>“The Major is in, I think, isn’t he, Mrs. Dominic?” +said Miss Mapp, in her most insinuating tones.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +“No, miss; out,” said Dominic uncompromisingly. (Miss Mapp +wondered if Dominic drank.)</p> + +<p>“Dear me! How tiresome, when he told me——” said +she, with playful annoyance. “Would you be very kind, Mrs. +Dominic, and just see for certain that he is not in his room? He may +have come in.”</p> + +<p>“No, miss, he’s out,” said Dominic, with the +parrot-like utterance of the determined liar. “Any message?”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp turned away, more certain than ever that he was in and +immersed in dalliance. She would have continued to be quite certain +about it, had she not, glancing distractedly down the street, caught +sight of him coming up with Captain Puffin.</p> + +<p>Meantime she had twice attempted to get up a cosy little party of four +(so as not to frighten the Contessa) to play bridge from tea till +dinner, and on both occasions the Faradiddleony (for so she had become) +was most unfortunately engaged. But the second of these disappointing +replies contained the hope that they would meet at their marketings +to-morrow morning, and though poor Miss Mapp was really getting very +tired with these innumerable visits to the post-box, whether wet or +fine, she set forth next morning with the hopes anyhow of finding out +whether the Contessa had been to tea with Major Flint, or on what day +she was going… There she was, just opposite the post office, and +there—oh, shame!—was Major Benjy on his way to the tram, in +light-hearted conversation with her. It was a slight consolation that +Captain Puffin was there too.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp quickened her steps to a little tripping run.</p> + +<p>“Dear Contessa, so sorry I am late,” she said. “Such a +lot of little things to do this morning. (Major Benjy!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +Captain Puffin!) Oh, how naughty of you to have begun your shopping +without me!”</p> + +<p>“Only been to the grocer’s,” said the Contessa. +“Major Benjy has been so amusing that I haven’t got on with +my shopping at all. I have written to Cecco to say that there is no one +so witty.”</p> + +<p>(Major Benjy! thought Miss Mapp bitterly, remembering how long it had +taken her to arrive at that. “And witty.” She had not +arrived at that yet.)</p> + +<p>“No, indeed!” said the Major. “It was the Contessa, +Miss Mapp, who has been so entertaining.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure she would be,” said Miss Mapp, with an +enormous smile. “And, oh, Major Benjy, you’ll miss your tram +unless you hurry, and get no golf at all, and then be vexed with us for +keeping you. You men always blame us poor women.”</p> + +<p>“Well, upon my word, what’s a game of golf compared with the +pleasure of being with the ladies?” asked the Major, with a great +fat bow.</p> + +<p>“I want to catch that tram,” said Puffin quite distinctly, +and Miss Mapp found herself more nearly forgetting his inebriated +insults than ever before.</p> + +<p>“You poor Captain Puffin,” said the Contessa, “you +shall catch it. Be off, both of you, at once. I will not say another +word to either of you. I will never forgive you if you miss it. But +to-morrow afternoon, Major Benjy.”</p> + +<p>He turned round to bow again, and a bicycle luckily (for the rider) +going very slowly, butted softly into him behind.</p> + +<p>“Not hurt?” called the Contessa. “Good! Ah, Miss Mapp, +let us get to our shopping! How well you manage those men! How right you +are about them! They want their golf more than they want us, whatever +they may say. They would hate us, if we kept them from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +their golf. So sorry not to have been able to play bridge with you +yesterday, but an engagement. What a busy place Tilling is. Let me see! +Where is the list of things that Figgis told me to buy? That Figgis! A +roller-towel for his pantry, and some blacking for his boots, and some +flannel I suppose for his fat stomach. It is all for Figgis. And there +is that swift Mrs. Plaistow. She comes like a train with a red light in +her face and wheels and whistlings. She talks like a +telegram—Good-morning, Mrs. Plaistow.”</p> + +<p>“Enjoyed my game of bridge, Contessa,” panted Diva. +“Delightful game of bridge yesterday.”</p> + +<p>The Contessa seemed in rather a hurry to reply. But long before she +could get a word out Miss Mapp felt she knew what had happened…</p> + +<p>“So pleased,” said the Contessa quickly. “And now for +Figgis’s towels, Miss Mapp. Ten and sixpence apiece, he says. What +a price to give for a towel! But I learn housekeeping like this, and +Cecco will delight in all the economies I shall make. Quick, to the +draper’s, lest there should be no towels left.”</p> + +<p>In spite of Figgis’s list, the Contessa’s shopping was soon +over, and Miss Mapp having seen her as far as the corner, walked on, as +if to her own house, in order to give her time to get to Mr. +Wyse’s, and then fled back to the High Street. The suspense was +unbearable: she had to know without delay when and where Diva and the +Contessa had played bridge yesterday. Never had her eye so rapidly +scanned the movement of passengers in that entrancing thoroughfare in +order to pick Diva out, and learn from her precisely what had +happened… There she was, coming out of the dyer’s with her +basket completely filled by a bulky package, which it needed no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +ingenuity to identify as the late crimson-lake. She would have to be +pleasant with Diva, for much as that perfidious woman might enjoy +telling her where this furtive bridge-party had taken place, she might +enjoy even more torturing her with uncertainty. Diva could, if put to +it, give no answer whatever to a direct question, but, skilfully +changing the subject, talk about something utterly different.</p> + +<p>“The crimson-lake,” said Miss Mapp, pointing to the basket. +“Hope it will turn out well, dear.”</p> + +<p>There was rather a wicked light in Diva’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Not crimson-lake,” she said. “Jet-black.”</p> + +<p>“Sweet of you to have it dyed again, dear Diva,” said Miss +Mapp. “Not very expensive, I trust?”</p> + +<p>“Send the bill in to you, if you like,” said Diva.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp laughed very pleasantly.</p> + +<p>“That would be a good joke,” she said. “How nice it is +that the dear Contessa takes so warmly to our Tilling ways. So amusing +she was about the commissions Figgis had given her. But a wee bit +satirical, do you think?”</p> + +<p>This ought to put Diva in a good temper, for there was nothing she liked +so much as a few little dabs at somebody else. (Diva was not very +good-natured.)</p> + +<p>“She is rather satirical,” said Diva.</p> + +<p>“Oh, tell me some of her amusing little speeches!” said Miss +Mapp enthusiastically. “I can’t always follow her, but you +are so quick! A little coarse too, at times, isn’t she? What she +said the other night when she was playing Patience, about the queens and +kings, wasn’t quite—was it? And the toothpick.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Toothpick,” said Diva.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps she has bad teeth,” said Miss Mapp; “it runs +in families, and Mr. Wyse’s, you know—We’re lucky, you +and I.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +Diva maintained a complete silence, and they had now come nearly as far +as her door. If she would not give the information that she knew Miss +Mapp longed for, she must be asked for it, with the uncertain hope that +she would give it then.</p> + +<p>“Been playing bridge lately, dear?” asked Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>“Quite lately,” said Diva.</p> + +<p>“I thought I heard you say something about it to the Contessa. +Yesterday, was it? Whom did you play with?”</p> + +<p>Diva paused, and, when they had come quite to her door, made up her +mind.</p> + +<p>“Contessa, Susan, Mr. Wyse, me,” she said.</p> + +<p>“But I thought she never played with Mr. Wyse,” said Miss +Mapp.</p> + +<p>“Had to get a four,” said Diva. “Contessa wanted her +bridge. Nobody else.”</p> + +<p>She popped into her house.</p> + +<p>There is no use in describing Miss Mapp’s state of mind, except by +saying that for the moment she quite forgot that the Contessa was almost +certainly going to tea with Major Benjy to-morrow.</p> + +<hr /><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p>“Peace on earth and mercy mild,” sang Miss Mapp, holding her +head back with her uvula clearly visible. She sat in her usual seat +close below the pulpit, and the sun streaming in through a stained glass +window opposite made her face of all colours, like Joseph’s coat. +Not knowing how it looked from outside, she pictured to herself a sort +of celestial radiance coming from within, though Diva, sitting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +opposite, was reminded of the iridescent hues observable on cold boiled +beef. But then, Miss Mapp had registered the fact that Diva’s +notion of singing alto was to follow the trebles at the uniform distance +of a minor third below, so that matters were about square between them. +She wondered between the verses if she could say something very tactful +to Diva, which might before next Christmas induce her not to make that +noise…</p> + +<p>Major Flint came in just before the first hymn was over, and held his +top-hat before his face by way of praying in secret, before he opened +his hymn-book. A piece of loose holly fell down from the window ledge +above him on the exact middle of his head, and the jump that he gave +was, considering his baldness, quite justifiable. Captain Puffin, Miss +Mapp was sorry to see, was not there at all. But he had been unwell +lately with attacks of dizziness, one of which had caused him, in the +last game of golf that he had played, to fall down on the eleventh green +and groan. If these attacks were not due to his lack of perseverance, no +right-minded person could fail to be very sorry for him.</p> + +<p>There was a good deal more peace on earth as regards Tilling than might +have been expected considering what the week immediately before +Christmas had been like. A picture by Miss Coles (who had greatly +dropped out of society lately, owing to her odd ways) called +“Adam,” which was certainly Mr. Hopkins (though no one could +have guessed) had appeared for sale in the window of a dealer in +pictures and curios, but had been withdrawn from public view at Miss +Mapp’s personal intercession and her revelation of whom, unlikely +as it sounded, the picture represented. The unchivalrous dealer had told +the artist the history of its withdrawal, and it had come to Miss +Mapp’s ears (among many other things) that quaint Irene had +imitated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +the scene of intercession with such piercing fidelity that her servant, +Lucy-Eve, had nearly died of laughing. Then there had been clandestine +bridge at Mr. Wyse’s house on three consecutive days, and on none +of these occasions was Miss Mapp asked to continue the instruction which +she had professed herself perfectly willing to give to the Contessa. The +Contessa, in fact—there seemed to be no doubt about it—had +declared that she would sooner not play bridge at all than play with +Miss Mapp, because the effort of not laughing would put an +un-warrantable strain on those muscles which prevented you from doing +so… Then the Contessa had gone to tea quite alone with Major +Benjy, and though her shrill and senseless monologue was clearly audible +in the street as Miss Mapp went by to post her letter again, the +Major’s Dominic had stoutly denied that he was in, and the notion +that the Contessa was haranguing all by herself in his drawing-room was +too ridiculous to be entertained for a moment… And Diva’s +dyed dress had turned out so well that Miss Mapp gnashed her teeth at +the thought that she had not had hers dyed instead. With some green +chiffon round the neck, even Diva looked quite distinguished—for +Diva.</p> + +<p>Then, quite suddenly, an angel of Peace had descended on the distracted +garden-room, for the Poppits, the Contessa and Mr. Wyse all went away to +spend Christmas and the New Year with the Wyses of Whitchurch. It was +probable that the Contessa would then continue a round of visits with +all that coroneted luggage, and leave for Italy again without revisiting +Tilling. She had behaved as if that was the case, for taking advantage +of a fine afternoon, she had borrowed the Royce and whirled round the +town on a series of calls, leaving P.P.C. cards everywhere, and saying +only (so Miss Mapp gathered from Withers) “Your mistress<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +not in? So sorry,” and had driven away before Withers could get +out the information that her mistress was very much in, for she had a +bad cold.</p> + +<p>But there were the P.P.C. cards, and the Wyses with their future +connections were going to Whitchurch, and after a few hours of rage +against all that had been going on, without revenge being now possible, +and of reaction after the excitement of it, a different reaction set in. +Odd and unlikely as it would have appeared a month or two earlier, when +Tilling was seething with duels, it was a fact that it was possible to +have too much excitement. Ever since the Contessa had arrived, she had +been like an active volcano planted down among dangerously inflammable +elements, and the removal of it was really a matter of relief. Miss Mapp +felt that she would be dealing again with materials whose properties she +knew, and since, no doubt, the strain of Susan’s marriage would +soon follow, it was a merciful dispensation that the removal of the +volcano granted Tilling a short restorative pause. The young couple +would be back before long, and with Susan’s approaching elevation +certainly going to her head, and making her talk in a manner wholly +intolerable about the grandeur of the Wyses of Whitchurch, it was a boon +to be allowed to recuperate for a little, before settling to work afresh +to combat Susan’s pretensions. There was no fear of being dull: +for plenty of things had been going on in Tilling before the Contessa +flared on the High Street, and plenty of things would continue to go on +after she had taken her explosions elsewhere.</p> + +<p>By the time that the second lesson was being read the sun had shifted +from Miss Mapp’s face, and enabled her to see how ghastly dear +Evie looked when focussed under the blue robe of Jonah, who was climbing +out of the whale. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +had had her disappointments to contend with, for the Contessa had never +really grasped at all who she was. Sometimes she mistook her for Irene, +sometimes she did not seem to see her, but never had she appeared fully +to identify her as Mr. Bartlett’s wee wifey. But then, dear Evie +was very insignificant even when she squeaked her loudest. Her best +friends, among whom was Miss Mapp, would not deny that. She had been +wilted by non-recognition; she would recover again, now that they were +all left to themselves.</p> + +<p>The sermon contained many repetitions and a quantity of split +infinitives. The Padre had once openly stated that Shakespeare was good +enough for him, and that Shakespeare was guilty of many split +infinitives. On that occasion there had nearly been a breach between him +and Mistress Mapp, for Mistress Mapp had said, “But then you are +not Shakespeare, dear Padre.” And he could find nothing better to +reply than “Hoots!”… There was nothing more of +interest about the sermon.</p> + +<p>At the end of the service Miss Mapp lingered in the church looking at +the lovely decorations of holly and laurel, for which she was so largely +responsible, until her instinct assured her that everybody else had +shaken hands and was wondering what to say next about Christmas. Then, +just then, she hurried out.</p> + +<p>They were all there, and she came like the late and honoured guest (Poor +Diva).</p> + +<p>“Diva, darling,” she said. “Merry Christmas! And Evie! +And the Padre. Padre dear, thank you for your sermon! And Major Benjy! +Merry Christmas, Major Benjy. What a small company we are, but not the +less Christmassy. No Mr. Wyse, no Susan, no Isabel. Oh, and no Captain +Puffin. Not quite well again, Major<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +Benjy? Tell me about him. Those dreadful fits of dizziness. So hard to +understand.”</p> + +<p>She beautifully succeeded in detaching the Major from the rest. With the +peace that had descended on Tilling, she had forgiven him for having +been made a fool of by the Contessa.</p> + +<p>“I’m anxious about my friend Puffin,” he said. +“Not at all up to the mark. Most depressed. I told him he had no +business to be depressed. It’s selfish to be depressed, I said. If +we were all depressed it would be a dreary world, Miss Elizabeth. +He’s sent for the doctor. I was to have had a round of golf with +Puffin this afternoon, but he doesn’t feel up to it. It would have +done him much more good than a host of doctors.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I wish I could play golf, and not disappoint you of your +round, Major Benjy,” said she.</p> + +<p>Major Benjy seemed rather to recoil from the thought. He did not +profess, at any rate, any sympathetic regret.</p> + +<p>“And we were going to have had our Christmas dinner together +to-night,” he said, “and spend a jolly evening +afterwards.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure quiet is the best thing for Captain Puffin with +his dizziness,” said Miss Mapp firmly.</p> + +<p>A sudden audacity seized her. Here was the Major feeling lonely as +regards his Christmas evening: here was she delighted that he should not +spend it “jollily” with Captain Puffin … and there +was plenty of plum-pudding.</p> + +<p>“Come and have your dinner with me,” she said. +“I’m alone too.”</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Very kind of you, I’m sure, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, +“but I think I’ll hold myself in readiness to go across to +poor old Puffin, if he feels up to it. I feel lost without my friend +Puffin.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +“But you must have no jolly evening, Major Benjy,” she said. +“So bad for him. A little soup and a good night’s rest. +That’s the best thing. Perhaps he would like me to go in and read +to him. I will gladly. Tell him so from me. And if you find he +doesn’t want anybody, not even you, well, there’s a slice of +plum-pudding at your neighbour’s, and such a warm welcome.”</p> + +<p>She stood on the steps of her house, which in summer were so crowded +with sketchers, and would have kissed her hand to him had not Diva been +following close behind, for even on Christmas Day poor Diva was capable +of finding something ill-natured to say about the most tender and +womanly action … and Miss Mapp let herself into her house with +only a little wave of her hand…</p> + +<p>Somehow the idea that Major Benjy was feeling lonely and missing the +quarrelsome society of his debauched friend was not entirely unpleasing +to her. It was odd that there should be anybody who missed Captain +Puffin. Who would not sooner play golf all alone (if that was possible) +than with him, or spend an evening alone rather than with his +companionship? But if Captain Puffin had to be missed, she would +certainly have chosen Major Benjy to be the person who missed him. +Without wishing Captain Puffin any unpleasant experience, she would have +borne with equanimity the news of his settled melancholia, or his +permanent dizziness, for Major Benjy with his bright robustness was not +the sort of man to prove a willing comrade to a chronically dizzy or +melancholic friend. Nor would it be right that he should be so. Men in +the prime of life were not meant for that. Nor were they meant to be the +victims of designing women, even though Wyses of Whitchurch… He +was saved from that by their most opportune departure.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>In spite of her readiness to be interrupted at any moment, Miss +Mapp spent a solitary evening. She had pulled a cracker with Withers, +and severely jarred a tooth over a threepenny-piece in the plum-pudding, +but there had been no other events. Once or twice, in order to see what +the night was like, she had gone to the window of the garden-room, and +been aware that there was a light in Major Benjy’s house, but when +half-past ten struck, she had despaired of company and gone to bed. A +little carol-singing in the streets gave her a Christmas feeling, and +she hoped that the singers got a nice supper somewhere.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp did not feel as genial as usual when she came down to +breakfast next day, and omitted to say good-morning to her rainbow of +piggies. She had run short of wool for her knitting, and Boxing Day +appeared to her a very ill-advised institution. You would have imagined, +thought Miss Mapp, as she began cracking her egg, that the tradespeople +had had enough relaxation on Christmas Day, especially when, as on this +occasion, it was immediately preceded by Sunday, and would have been all +the better for getting to work again. She never relaxed her efforts for +a single day in the year, and why——</p> + +<p>An overpowering knocking on her front-door caused her to stop cracking +her egg. That imperious summons was succeeded by but a moment of +silence, and then it began again. She heard the hurried step of Withers +across the hall, and almost before she could have been supposed to reach +the front door, Diva burst into the room.</p> + +<p>“Dead!” she said. “In his soup. Captain Puffin. +Can’t wait!”</p> + +<p>She whirled out again and the front door banged.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp ate her egg in three mouthfuls, had no marmalade at all, and +putting on the Prince of Wales’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +cloak tripped down into the High Street. Though all shops were shut, +Evie was there with her market-basket, eagerly listening to what Mrs. +Brace, the doctor’s wife, was communicating. Though Mrs. Brace was +not, strictly speaking, “in society,” Miss Mapp waived all +social distinctions, and pressed her hand with a mournful smile.</p> + +<p>“Is it all too terribly true?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brace did not take the smallest notice of her, and, dropping her +voice, spoke to Evie in tones so low that Miss Mapp could not catch a +single syllable except the word soup, which seemed to imply that Diva +had got hold of some correct news at last. Evie gave a shrill little +scream at the concluding words, whatever they were, as Mrs. Brace +hurried away.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp firmly cornered Evie, and heard what had happened. Captain +Puffin had gone up to bed last night, not feeling well, without having +any dinner. But he had told Mrs. Gashly to make him some soup, and he +would not want anything else. His parlour-maid had brought it to him, +and had soon afterwards opened the door to Major Flint, who, learning +that his friend had gone to bed, went away. She called her master in the +morning, and found him sitting, still dressed, with his face in the soup +which he had poured out into a deep soup-plate. This was very odd, and +she had called Mrs. Gashly. They settled that he was dead, and rang up +the doctor, who agreed with them. It was clear that Captain Puffin had +had a stroke of some sort, and had fallen forward into the soup which he +had just poured out…</p> + +<p>“But he didn’t die of his stroke,” said Evie in a +strangled whisper. “He was drowned.”</p> + +<p>“Drowned, dear?” said Miss Mapp.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Lungs were full of ox-tail, oh, dear me! A<span class='pagenum'><a +name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> stroke first, and he fell forward +with his face in his soup-plate and got his nose and mouth quite covered +with the soup. He was drowned. All on dry land and in his bedroom. Too +terrible. What dangers we are all in!”</p> + +<p>She gave a loud squeak and escaped, to tell her husband.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Diva had finished calling on everybody, and approached rapidly.</p> + +<p>“He must have died of a stroke,” said Diva. “Very much +depressed lately. That precedes a stroke.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, then, haven’t you heard, dear?” said Miss Mapp. +“It is all too terrible! On Christmas Day, too!”</p> + +<p>“Suicide?” asked Diva. “Oh, how shocking!”</p> + +<p>“No, dear. It was like this…”</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Miss Mapp got back to her house long before she usually left it. Her +cook came up with the proposed bill of fare for the day.</p> + +<p>“That will do for lunch,” said Miss Mapp. “But not +soup in the evening. A little fish from what was left over yesterday, +and some toasted cheese. That will be plenty. Just a tray.”</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp went to the garden-room and sat at her window.</p> + +<p>“All so sudden,” she said to herself.</p> + +<p>She sighed.</p> + +<p>“I daresay there may have been much that was good in Captain +Puffin,” she thought, “that we knew nothing about.”</p> + +<p>She wore a wintry smile.</p> + +<p>“Major Benjy will feel very lonely,” she said.</p> + +<hr /><p class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></p> +<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE</h2> + +<p>Miss Mapp went to the garden-room and sat at her window…</p> + +<p>It was a warm, bright day of February, and a butterfly was enjoying +itself in the pale sunshine on the other window, and perhaps (so Miss +Mapp sympathetically interpreted its feelings) was rather annoyed that +it could not fly away through the pane. It was not a white butterfly, +but a tortoise-shell, very pretty, and in order to let it enjoy itself +more, she opened the window and it fluttered out into the garden. Before +it had flown many yards, a starling ate most of it up, so the starling +enjoyed itself too.</p> + +<p>Miss Mapp fully shared in the pleasure first of the tortoise-shell and +then of the starling, for she was enjoying herself very much too, though +her left wrist was terribly stiff. But Major Benjy was so cruel: he +insisted on her learning that turn of the wrist which was so important +in golf.</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, you’ve got it now, Miss Elizabeth,” he +had said to her yesterday, and then made her do it all over again fifty +times more. (“Such a bully!”) Sometimes she struck the +ground, sometimes she struck the ball, sometimes she struck the air. But +he had been very much pleased with her. And she was very much pleased +with him. She forgot about the butterfly and remembered the starling.</p> + +<p>It was idle to deny that the last six weeks had been a terrific strain, +and the strain on her left wrist was nothing to them. The worst tension +of all, perhaps, was when Diva had bounced in with the news that the +Contessa was coming back. That was so like Diva: the only foundation for +the report proved to be that Figgis had said to her Janet that Mr. Wyse +was coming back, and either Janet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +had misunderstood Figgis, or Diva (far more probably) had misunderstood +Janet, and Miss Mapp only hoped that Diva had not done so on purpose, +though it looked like it. Stupid as poor Diva undoubtedly was, it was +hard for Charity itself to believe that she had thought that Janet +really said that. But when this report proved to be totally unfounded, +Miss Mapp rose to the occasion, and said that Diva had spoken out of +stupidity and not out of malice towards her…</p> + +<p>Then in due course Mr. Wyse had come back and the two Poppits had come +back, and only three days ago one Poppit had become a Wyse, and they had +all three gone for a motor-tour on the Continent in the Royce. Very +likely they would go as far south as Capri, and Susan would stay with +her new grand Italian connections. What she would be like when she got +back Miss Mapp forbore to conjecture, since it was no use anticipating +trouble; but Susan had been so grandiose about the Wyses, multiplying +their incomes and their acreage by fifteen or twenty, so Miss Mapp +conjectured, and talking so much about county families, that the +liveliest imagination failed to picture what she would make of the +Faragliones. She already alluded to the Count as “My +brother-in-law Cecco Faraglione,” but had luckily heard Diva say +“Faradiddleony” in a loud aside, which had made her a little +more reticent. Susan had taken the insignia of the Member of the British +Empire with her, as she at once conceived the idea of being presented to +the Queen of Italy by Amelia, and going to a court ball, and Isabel had +taken her manuscript book of Malaprops and Spoonerisms. If she put down +all the Italian malaprops that Mrs. Wyse would commit, it was likely +that she would bring back two volumes instead of one.</p> + +<p>Though all these grandeurs were so rightly irritating, the departure of +the “young couple” and Isabel had left Tilling, already +shocked and shattered by the death of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +Captain Puffin, rather flat and purposeless. Miss Mapp alone refused to +be flat, and had never been so full of purpose. She felt that it would +be unpardonably selfish of her if she regarded for a moment her own +loss, when there was one in Tilling who suffered so much more keenly, +and she set herself with admirable singleness of purpose to restore +Major Benjy’s zest in life, and fill the gap. She wanted no +assistance from others in this: Diva, for instance, with her jerky ways +would be only too apt to jar on him, and her black dress might remind +him of his loss if Miss Mapp had asked her to go shares in the task of +making the Major’s evenings less lonely. Also the weather, during +the whole of January, was particularly inclement, and it would have been +too much to expect of Diva to come all the way up the hill in the wet, +while it was but a step from the Major’s door to her own. So there +was little or nothing in the way of winter-bridge as far as Miss Mapp +and the Major were concerned. Piquet with a single sympathetic companion +who did not mind being rubiconned at threepence a hundred was as much as +he was up to at present.</p> + +<p>With the end of the month a balmy foretaste of spring (such as had +encouraged the tortoiseshell butterfly to hope) set in, and the Major +used to drop in after breakfast and stroll round the garden with her, +smoking his pipe. Miss Mapp’s sweet snowdrops had begun to appear, +and green spikes of crocuses pricked the black earth, and the sparrows +were having such fun in the creepers. Then one day the Major, who was +going out to catch the 11.20 tram, had a “golf-stick,” as +Miss Mapp so foolishly called it, with him, and a golf-ball, and after +making a dreadful hole in her lawn, she had hit the ball so hard that it +rebounded from the brick-wall, which was quite a long way off, and came +back to her very feet, as if asking to be hit again by the +golf-stick—no, golf-club. She learned to keep her wonderfully +observant eye on the ball and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +bought one of her own. The Major lent her a mashie—and before +anyone would have thought it possible, she had learned to propel her +ball right over the bed where the snowdrops grew, without beheading any +of them in its passage. It was the turn of the wrist that did that, and +Withers cleaned the dear little mashie afterwards, and put it safely in +the corner of the garden-room.</p> + +<p>To-day was to be epoch-making. They were to go out to the real links by +the 11.20 tram (consecrated by so many memories), and he was to call for +her at eleven. He had qui-hied for porridge fully an hour ago.</p> + +<p>After letting out the tortoise-shell butterfly from the window looking +into the garden, she moved across to the post of observation on the +street, and arranged snowdrops in a little glass vase. There were a few +over when that was full, and she saw that a reel of cotton was close at +hand, in case she had an idea of what to do with the remainder. Eleven +o’clock chimed from the church, and on the stroke she saw him +coming up the few yards of street that separated his door from hers. So +punctual! So manly!</p> + +<p>Diva was careering about the High Street as they walked along it, and +Miss Mapp kissed her hand to her.</p> + +<p>“Off to play golf, darling,” she said. “Is that not +grand? Au reservoir.”</p> + +<p>Diva had not missed seeing the snowdrops in the Major’s +button-hole, and stood stupefied for a moment at this news. Then she +caught sight of Evie, and shot across the street to communicate her +suspicions. Quaint Irene joined then and the Padre.</p> + +<p>“Snowdrops, i’fegs!” said he…</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> +<p class='c i mt2 noin'>Printed at The Chapel River Press, Kingston, Surrey.</p> +<hr /> + +<div class='bbox'> +<h3>Transcriber’s Notes and Errata</h3> + +<p>The following words were found in both hyphenated and unhyphenated form +in the text. The number of instances of each is given in parentheses.</p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr class='b'><td align='left'>Hyphenated</td><td align='left'>Unhyphenated</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>book-case (4)</td><td align='left'>bookcase (1)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>dress-maker’s (1)</td><td align='left'>dress-maker’s (1)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>dress-maker (1)</td><td align='left'>dress-maker (1)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>eye-glass (4)</td><td align='left'>eyeglass (4)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>parlour-maid (3)</td><td align='left'>parlourmaid (5)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>tea-gown (9)</td><td align='left'>teagown (2)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>tip-toed (1)</td><td align='left'>tiptoed (2)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>tortoise-shell (3)</td><td align='left'>tortoiseshell (1)</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>The following typographical errors were corrected:</p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr class='b'><td align='left'>Page</td><td align='left'>Error</td><td align='left'>Correction</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>59</td><td align='left'>appraoch</td><td align='left'>approach</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>86</td><td align='left'>aleady</td><td align='left'>already</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>126</td><td align='left'>Consciousnness</td><td align='left'>Consciousness</td></tr> +</table></div> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss Mapp, by Edward Frederic Benson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAPP *** + +***** This file should be named 25919-h.htm or 25919-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/9/1/25919/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, LN Yaddanapudi and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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