"But that has nothing to do with it," I argued, "in fact quite the reverse. As far as I can judge, the only reason for being given garments at all is the fact that one doesn't deserve them. If you don't believe me, let me refer you to the precedent of Adam and Eve."
"Oh Reggie, how silly you are to drag Adam and Eve into a thing like the Needlework Guild, which has nothing in the world to do with them. As I've told you, the rule of the Guild is that for every twenty garments given by a particular parish, a grant of twenty garments is allotted to that parish; while the odd garments outside the twenties are given to the poorest East-end parishes, who can't afford to send any garments at all."
"I know, I know!" I cried hastily, in a valiant attempt to stem the flood of Annabel's explanations.
But she went on as if I had not spoken. "Therefore you see, when a well-to-do parish sends less than twenty garments, it doesn't get any grant at all; and that is just what I am saying about Summerglade. Summerglade didn't send as many as twenty garments, did it, Fay?"
"No, Miss Kingsnorth, only a measly seventeen."
"I blame the Vicar, Mr. Sneyd, for that," said Annabel severely. "He is a most feeble person, and takes no interest at all in the Needlework Guild. He called here for a subscription for Foreign Missions the other day, which I considered a great impertinence, as I cannot see what claim the foreign heathen of Summerglade have upon me. I thought him a most stupid man."
"I thought him a blooming idiot," exclaimed Fay.
Annabel started as if she had been shot. "Oh, my dear, what an improper expression to make use of."
"I learnt it from Frankie," Fay explained; "he is always calling people blooming idiots."
"But Frank is different," said Annabel, who would have found an excuse for Frank if he had committed murder.