“D’you mean for to-night?” said Peregrine.
Mrs. Carey Below sat back in her chair.
“What d’you think I mean?” she said.
“My dress for the dance, of course. It was very stupid of me.”
“No, not stupid,” said Mrs. Below. “Ill-mannered. Rather than take the trouble to use your brain, you’ll let me spoon-feed it. Never mind. What have you done?”
“I haven’t done anything,” said Peregrine, “so far. But——”
“Why not?”
“Well, it’s not till to-night, dear. I suppose Pickford can knock me out something this afternoon.”
“Does it occur to you that I may need Pickford’s services—this afternoon?”
Peregrine waved a desperate hand.