Optimists! They really thought we could get these things for them in "the town"!
I read aloud.
"Last two numbers of The Tatler." (I expect the latest number they've got at the station here is April 1, Nineteen Five.)
"Pot of lemon-marmalade; you could get it at Morris's. (I don't think.)
"Sybil wants jasmine soap, 1s. 3d." (Why not the moon?)
"Two skeins of floss embroidery silk, deep cream or nearest." (The nearest is Regent Street, I expect.)
"Reel of black cotton, No. 40, packet needles, No. 9's, brown shoe-laces, broad." (All asked for, and none to be had.)
"Shocking!" was Vic's cheery verdict. "As for the packets of grey square envelopes for Miss Easton, nothing doing—and there was I pinning my faith to them having a good line in salvage stock left over from the Ark, this being the last place where the Flood stopped—not that it ever has really stopped in Wales, if you ask me."
"Oh, that eternal joke about the weather in Wales!" I laughed. "Just as if it didn't rain much harder in plenty of other places! Have you ever stayed in Surrey, by the way? That's where it never leaves off!"
"It 'ud have a job to beat this beauty-spot today," persisted Vic, winking the rain from her lashes. "Look at it!"