"Am I, Judy—am I?" I said gently, taking her hand.
"Yes," she said, snatching it away. "You are and will be. Go out and get the money."
I adjusted my nose thoughtfully. Daphne was, of course, in great evidence. Anxious to run no unnecessary risk, I avoided her when possible, and when I did find myself in her proximity, I at once indulged in some of my more extravagant behaviour.
"Where's your brother?" I heard a worker say.
"Brother!" said Daphne bitterly. "Coward! And I really thought we should have him this time. Fled to London before we were up this morning, thank you. From the amount of food he took with him, and the way he took it, anyone would have thought he was an escaped convict. Guilty conscience, I suppose. One hears a good deal about record flights nowadays, but I'd back my miserable brother against any aviator. My husband's promised to look in about five, if he's back from Huntercombe. That's something. But they're a wretched lot. Oh, here's one of the Pierrots!"
I hung the pail on my nose and looked at her.
"As one of the organizers of the fete," she said hastily, "I must thank you—"
"Nothing doing, madam," said I, in an assumed voice.
"But"
"Free list entirely suspended, madam," and I shook the pail mercilessly.