"But, I say, what's the old pageant about? That's what I want to know, and being a patron I think I've a right to ask."
"Smuggling," said Beth. "But for goodness' sake don't interrupt. If I'm to get these lispings done at all I simply must stick at it."
"I don't believe Uncle Evie is going to smuggle. He's not sportsman enough."
Mary Lambert, fully dressed for the motor run, slipped into the room in time to hear Jimmy's defence of his uncle's character.
"If he won't," she said, "I wish somebody else would. The price of silk stockings is scandalous, and unless something is done about it poor girls like me won't be able to live at all. It seems to me, Jimmy, that it's your plain duty to do a little smuggling in the interests of the profession. Other people may be able to get on without silk. We can't. It's a business necessity."
Jimmy sat silent for a minute or two, meditating on Mary's proposal. Then he suddenly addressed Beth.
"Nearly finished? For if you're not too breathless to listen I've got a scheme to propose."
"Give me one more lisp," said Beth, "and I'm yours for a thousand miles in the Russia leather Pallas Athene, all meals en route provided free."
"What I was just going to suggest," said Jimmy, "is that we should run down and dine with Uncle Evie, just to find out about this smuggling stunt of his."
"I should be terrified out of my life," said Mary. "I'm not accustomed to Cabinet Ministers, or for the matter of that to titled aristocrats, except you, Jimmy, and nobody would ever take you for an earl."