"Not more than Mary's," said Janet. "Mary, will you ask him?"
"No," said Mary, "I don't think I could. Not the vicar. I might be willing to ask the curate."
"What a ripping idea!" said Jack. "Of course the curate would be much easier. We'll ask where he lives."
They did so at a small tobacconist's that was open, and found that the curate had rooms at Myrtle Villa, quite close by.
They therefore marched towards Myrtle Villa, but first arranged to draw lots to see who should ring the bell and make the inquiry. They tore up paper of different sizes, and it was agreed that the holders of the longest and the shortest pieces should go—the longest to put the question, the shortest to ring and lend support. The result was that Mary drew the longest and Gregory the smallest.
Gregory was furious. "I don't even know what it's all about," he complained.
They told him.
"How rotten!" he said. "What's it matter?"
Mary, however, led him off to the house, and he rang the bell with vigour.
A smiling girl opened the door and asked what they wanted.