"Oh, don't forsake Humphrey, for goodness' sake, if he's in a good temper," advised Nancy.
"Well, Bobby Trench is such a nuisance. He comes over and talks to us while we're waiting."
"If you stick on till lunch-time I'll change with you after. Uncle Herbert is shooting very badly, but he's full of conversation. And I didn't tell you—he asked after the camera fund. I don't know who can have told him—Dick, I suppose. Dear old Dick; I wish he was here!"
"So do I," said Joan. "Did Uncle Herbert show any signs of contributing?"
"I expect he will. But I didn't want to appear too mercenary; I skilfully changed the subject."
"That ought to do the trick," observed Joan. "I don't mind a bit taking it from relations. They ought to be encouraged to do their duty."
"All old people ought to tip all young ones," said Nancy largely. "You might convey that truth delicately to Mr. Wilkinson."
"I might, but I'm not going to."
"Or Colonel Stacey. Why not try him? He's old enough."
"You can do your own dirty work," said Joan, preparing to leave her. "Colonel Stacey is very poor. He lives in a tiny little house. I shall sit next to him at luncheon, and see that he gets a jolly good one."