For there was the Bishop of Ligeria, and a livid kind of chaplain who looked like a limp curl-paper, alighting at the front door from a motor-car.
Daddy rushed out into the hall and I after him. I wished I had had time to change into something black, as father seemed so anxious to make a good impression on the Bishop, but I managed to part my hair in the middle by the hall glass and I turned the collar of my blouse up instead of down.
And then one of those terrible delusions came over me, for I thought father seized the Bishop by the hand and shook it violently, exclaiming,—
'Hallo, Porky, what priceless luck.'
'What about that ten bob, old bean?' said Porky.
Then father turned and saw me with my hair parted down the middle, and the chaplain, partially paralysed with horror.
'My daughter, me lud,' he said, and led the Bishop and his attendant into the drawing-room for a belated tea.
I got away as soon as I could. I felt I must have quiet to think things out. Is this another delusion, or did father really call a Bishop 'Porky'? Nannie said once that putting the feet in hot water draws the blood from the head and eases mental strain, so I decided to have a bath before dinner.
I ran into daddy in the corridor.
'Meg, you've torn the lace on your dressing-gown; I told you so yesterday. Why isn't it mended?'