"It's too late. Thomas has begun another one. Well, he'll have to swallow the stone."
"A trifle hard on the Admiralty," said Archie. "It loses both Thomas and Peter at one gulp. My country, what of thee?"
However, when Thomas had peeled the peach, I cleverly solved the difficulty by taking it on to my plate while he was looking round for the sugar.
"No, no sugar, thanks," I said, and waved it away.
With the coffee and cigars Simpson unfolded his scheme of education for Peter.
"In the first place," he said, "it is important that even as a child he should always be addressed in rational English and not in that ridiculous baby-talk so common with young mothers."
"Oh dear," said Dahlia.
"My good Samuel," I broke in, "this comes well from you. Why, only yesterday I heard you talking to him. I think you called him his nunkey's ickle petsy wetsy lambkin."
"You misunderstood me," said Simpson quickly. "I was talking to you."
"Oh!" I said, rather taken aback. "Well—well, I'm not." I lit a cigar. "And I shall be annoyed if you call me so again."