"The Simpsons, for instance? It is true his father was a respectable solicitor, and even Mayor of Devonport I have heard, but Mr. Simpson's taste in badinage is such as I cannot always approve. It is very well in Troy here, where everybody knows them, but the Goodwyn-Sandys are certain to be most particular, and, Lavinia, that crimson gown of hers!"
"It is bright," assented Miss Lavinia.
"And the Saunders! What a pity the girls cannot be invited without the boys."
"The boys have always come before, Priscilla."
Miss Limpenny groaned. "To meet an Honourable, Lavinia!"
The leaven was working.
However, on the following Monday everybody was assembled in the little drawing-room. The Vicar was there in evening dress; the doctor and his wife; Mr. Simpson and Mrs. Simpson in the crimson gown; the Saunders boys in carpet slippers (at sight of which Miss Limpenny went hot and cold by turns); the Misses Buzza in book-muslin, with ultramarine sashes and bronze shoes laced sandal-wise; their mother in green satin and deadly terror lest the Admiral's voice should penetrate the party-wall. Mr. Moggridge was frowning gloomily in a corner at some humorous story of Sam Buzza's telling. In short, with the exception of their Admiral, all Trojan society had gathered to do honour to the new-comers.
Miss Limpenny, nervously toying with her best brooch, rose in a flutter as the door opened and admitted them.
"So afraid we are late! but the clocks at 'The Bower' have not yet recovered from their journey."
Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys gazed calmly about her. There was a rustle throughout the room; two pink spots appeared on Miss Limpenny's cheeks; she stumbled in her words of welcome. The Vicar frowned and looked puzzled.