"Well, I was just going to ask you—have you arranged anything about Monday?"
"Monday," I said, "Monday. No, don't tell me—I shall get it in a moment. Monday ... He's the one who—— Oh, you mean the day of the week?"
"Who's a funny?" asked Celia of the teapot.
"Sorry; I really thought you meant another relation. What am I doing? I'm playing golf if I can find somebody to play with."
I could place Edward at once. Edward, I need hardly say, is Celia's uncle; one of the ones I have not yet met. He married a very young aunt of hers, not much older than Celia.
"But I don't know him," I said.
"It doesn't matter. Write and ask him to meet you at the golf club. I'm sure he'd love to."
"Wouldn't he think it rather cool, this sudden attack from a perfectly unknown nephew? I fancy the first step ought to come from uncle."
"But you're older than he is."