Amelie laughed.
'Poor papá! what a lot you must forget! I guess you're failing. Well, I've regretfully finished my lunch. Are you going treadmilling?'
'Yes. Who comes down with your mother?'
'Mrs. Massington and Lord Keynes. The others come on Saturday—Mrs. Emsworth, Bilton, and that lot. Papa, I've thought of the right name for Reggie Armstrong at last. It's Ping-pong. He's just that.'
Mr. Palmer considered this.
'Yes, Ping-pong is about the size. Small set, though. Come and treadmill, Amelie.'
She got up and stretched herself, then let one arm fall round her father's neck.
'There are schemes in the air,' she said to him, as they walked out. 'But on the day you see me marry Ping-pong you may tie me up by the heels to Tamburlaine's tail.' From which it may be seen that either Amelie was charmingly lacking in the wisdom of the world, or that her mother had more of it than one would have guessed.