"We won't stop, ta fearfully all the same—we only wanted to ask you to act in some theatricals," said Josephine; "they're next week, and we're in a tearing hurry. Think it over and let us know as soon as you can."
"I," said Graeme. "Do you mean you want me to act?" He turned to the party round the table. "Children, can you imagine your father acting in amateur theatricals?"
The response was an outburst of unbridled merriment, in course of which Cornelius James, seated next to Miss Mayne, upset his teacup.
The Misses Smedley took advantage of the ensuing confusion to beat a retreat.
"Well," said Alicia, "we just popped in on the off-chance you would, don't you know, being next-door neighbours, and all that kind of thing. Now we must fly off and beat up someone else." Her insolent eyes roved round the table. She appeared to be preoccupied with some mental arithmetical calculation.
"Won't you have some tea first?" said Miss Mayne. The instant she had spoken she regretted it, but the intimacy of the afternoon, the feeling of knowing almost as much about the house and its contents as the owners, perhaps some faint promptings of loyalty to her sex, produced a spontaneous offer of hospitality that she knew was not hers to make.
"No, thanks really," said Josephine, already in retreat. "We haven't time now. Good-bye, and do try to persuade your husband to help us with these wretched theatricals."
Graeme and Miss Mayne stared blankly at each other. Through the open window came the sound of a car being cranked furiously.
The children's faces were eyeing their elders as if uncertain how to take this unexpected turn of events.
"They don't really eat men, do they?" said the awed voice of Cornelius James.