Mrs. Brash, who had never thought of putting things together in that way before, said how very poetic it was. Then would Miss Ursula think that quills would look better? After all, birds and flowers went together.
Ursula agreed, and added that she had even found the neighbours’ fowls scratting up the white violets one day. Mrs. Brash seemed to feel that was conclusive proof of the desirability of the combination. And in that case, should the quills tilt outwards or inwards? No, she didn’t mean inside the hat, of course, but across the top or off the head? . . . Yes, perhaps it would be the best to tilt them backwards, and she should fasten them with a large cameo that had belonged to the late Mr. Brash’s mother (prolific details as to the grasping character of Mrs. Brash, senior, who had never given her a thing except this cameo).
Finally, she aired her only anxiety—would the shape of the winter-before-last toque still be worn this winter? Ursula assured her that the shapes of the winter-before-last will be worn till the war is over, and by that time we shall have become so attached to them that we shall refuse to part with them.
After we had collected a fairly comprehensive pile of clothes—including most we possessed—and placed it all close beside the bed, jewellery came under discussion. Naturally no one wanted to lose even the smallest tiara, and we were all quite sure the Government wouldn’t include jewellery in the insurance. So we collected our trinkets and placed them on top of the garments. It was astonishing how much we each seemed to possess, and how careful we were to enumerate it all. Mrs. Brash enlarged tearfully and at great length on the diamond necklace her late husband had given her.
This opened up a wider question. How about silver plate? Yes, how about the silver? each one echoed. Was it likely we were going to hand over our teapots, shoelifts, candlesticks, pin-boxes, spoons and forks, hair-brushes, entrée-dishes, and photo-frames to the enemy? No, indeed not! So we all lugged our plate-chests to the bedside; though Miss Thresher said she should put hers all into a laundry bag and hang it on the bedpost; it would be easier to carry that way.
Then a number of side issues cropped up. Virginia had just invested in the War Loan; there was her scrip. Mrs. Brash couldn’t think of leaving behind the portrait of her great-grand-uncle, the admiral (always thus referred to, as though no other had ever existed), whereupon we all remembered we had ancestral portraits calling for preservation—after all, it doesn’t look well if you haven’t!
Miss Quirker decided she would take the bedspread she had crocheted for their forthcoming Red Cross bazaar (but didn’t intend to give it to them now it was finished; it was far too pretty. Besides, the secretary had only put her name in small type among “other ladies helping” below the stallholders, and just think how she had slaved over that bazaar!).