“So many people prefer to dine quietly at home,” said Mrs. Fazackerly.
Captain Patch, one of the few people with whom old Carey—Mrs. Fazackerly’s father—had not had time to quarrel—put him into a good humor in the morning by presenting him with a small work entitled “Poison Crimes of the Past.”
Old Carey’s hobby is criminology.
“All full of old friends!” said Mrs. Fazackerly delightedly. “Palmer, I’m sure I remember him—and Pritchard? I’ve often heard you speak of Pritchard, I’m sure, Father.”
She tries very hard, I know, to be interested in these rather sinister celebrities, but old Carey never meets his daughter halfway.
“Pritchard was a bungler of the first water,” he witheringly replied. “That servant of yours has no sense, Nancy; she hasn’t filled the tea caddy.”
“I ought to have done it myself. I never let her touch the China tea, you know.”
“This isn’t China tea.”
“Oh, Father, it is indeed. I had it specially down from the Stores, only a week ago.”
“Then why did you tell me yesterday, when we were talking about the weekly books, that you hadn’t had anything from the Stores for six months?”