"I have come," I announced, feeling that some excuse was necessary, "to see the lobretias; don't say that they are out. I mean, of course, do say that they are out."
"But I don't think we have any," she said in surprise. "I've never heard of them. What are they like?"
"They're just the ordinary sort of flower that people point to and say, 'That's a nice lobretia.' Dash it, you've got a garden, you ought to know."
"I am afraid," smiled Miss Middleton, "that there isn't such a flower—not yet. Perhaps somebody will invent it now they've got the name."
"Then I suppose I must go back to London," I said, getting up.
"Bother."
"Stay and inspect the meter," pleaded Miss Middleton. "Or ask father for a subscription for the band. Surely you can think of SOME excuse for being here."
"I will stay," I said, sitting down again, "and talk to you. Between ourselves, it is one of the reasons why I came. I thought you might like to hear all the latest news. Er—we've started strawberries in London."
Miss Middleton sighed and shook her head.
"But not here," she said.
"I was afraid not, but I thought I'd remind you in case. Well, after all, what ARE strawberries? Let's talk about something else. Do you know that this is going to be the greatest season of history? I've got a free pass to the Earl's Court Exhibition, so I shall be right in the thick of it."