"Nice piece of work, isn't it? I particularly like the woman's splay feet. Where shall we hang it?"
"I suggest the coal-cellar," said Peter.
Mrs. Bosanquet was regarding the picture through her lorgnette. "What an exceedingly ill-favoured young person!" she remarked. "Really, almost disgusting. And what is she waving in her hand, pray?"
"Since I am informed that the title of this masterpiece is "Reapers" I should hazard a guess that it must be a sickle," Charles replied.
Celia found her tongue. "Charles, how could you?" she demanded. "Have you gone mad, or something?"
"Not at all. I'm supporting modern art."
"You don't know anything about art, ancient or modern. I can't get over you going out and wasting your money on an awful thing like this! You don't suppose that I could live with it on my walls, do you?"
"Shove it up on the stairs," suggested Peter. "Then the next time the Monk goes glissant up and down, though we do not see, it'll give him something to think about. After all we owe him one for that skull."
"My dear," said Mrs. Bosanquet gravely, "you should not make a jest of these things. When Margaret returns from London with my planchette board I shall hope to convince you as I myself have been convinced."
"Aunt, you promised you wouldn't talk about the Monk!" Celia said uneasily. "Just when I was beginning to forget about it too!"