“Second helpings?”
“I know that in boarding houses and places like that it’s an understood thing that there are no second helpings. Especially meat. But in the case of a paying guest, it seems to me that one really couldn’t think of anything like that,” said Mrs. Fazackerly, evidently thinking of it very earnestly indeed.
Claire, who is lavish alike by temperament and from a life-long environment of plenty, was eloquent in her protestations, and Nancy Fazackerly thanked her very gratefully indeed, and said what a help it was to have someone to consult who always knew things.
Although, theoretically, Claire, in common with the whole neighborhood, perceives and regrets certain by no means obscure failings in the character of Mrs. Fazackerly, she finds it impossible not to like her very much indeed when they are together.
“Let me know how it turns out, my dear. When does Captain Patch arrive?”
“On the first of June.”
“We’ll arrange some tennis next month, I hope.”
“He ought to get quite a lot of invitations,” remarked Captain Patch’s prospective hostess, thoughtfully. “I do want it to be pleasant and amusing for him, and he’s so nice I’m sure everybody will like him and want to ask him to tea and tennis. Or lunch. I want him to feel perfectly free to accept all invitations, and I shall make that quite clear from the start.”
One is always somehow exhilarated by a visit from Nancy Fazackerly. Claire was able to retail an amusing and exaggerated account of the conversation to Mary, a few days later. She is an excellent raconteuse, and always makes a success of her stories, except in the case of the literal-minded Kendals. To them, a raconteuse is simply a person who does not speak the truth.
The Kendals were candidly self-congratulatory at the prospect of having a strange man in the neighborhood of Cross Loman during the coming summer.