Lady Ramsden gave a thin monosyllabic laugh.
“No, that’s only remembering what you have seen on an atlas,” said Maud. “I never saw a map of this cottage with ‘warming-pan’ marked on it.”
“The Physical Research Society are a company of amiable and intelligent lunatics,” remarked Mr. Carlingford. “Don’t have anything to do with them, Miss Wrexham. Are you ready for your lunch, Ramsden? What sort of sport have you had?”
Lord Ramsden threw away the end of his cigarette, which he had been smoking at the door, and came in.
“Birds very wild,” he said. “It’s no use walking them up.”
“Oh, we’ve got twelve brace,” said Tom, cheerfully. “It’s not so bad. However, we can drive after lunch; there are lots of them in the stubble, and we can’t get near them any other way.”
“Tom’s been talking art all the morning,” remarked Bob Wrexham; “I draw the line at talking art when you’re shooting.”
“You can’t do two things at once,” growled his lordship, who had not pursued the subject of the birds being wild.
“Tom never does less than two things at once,” said his father; “he says there isn’t time.”
“I can eat and talk at once,” said Tom, with his mouth full.