Mrs. Pratt.—Dear me, yes! Our old house was much too cramped for entertaining.
Miss Brant (Half confidentially to Lady Fanshawe).—Speaking of entertaining, shall I see you, by any chance, at the Country Club, to-morrow?
Lady Fanshawe (Distantly).—I am going to Mrs. Long’s luncheon, if that is what you mean.
Miss Brant (Burbling).—It’s exactly what I mean! I’m so thrilled at being asked—humble little me—with all you impressive personages.
Mrs. Long was the wife of the owner of The Chronicle and it was suspected that she found the columns—both social and political—of her husband’s paper a convenient medium for the maintaining of discipline and the administration of justice. She was naturally held in very high esteem, and persons of astuteness made much of her.
“I never know what’s going on,” she was fond of saying, “for I can’t endure the sight of a newspaper. It’s so much easier to blame than to read them,” she said, paraphrasing Dr. Johnson.
Notwithstanding her professed disinterestedness, however, the arm of coincidence seemed longer than usual when it was observed that the recently-distinguished Lady Elton, who had overlooked her when issuing invitations to a reception in honour of her husband’s knighthood, appeared on the following day as “Mrs. Elton”. And, furthermore, that on the day succeeding this, her letter of protest, which was never intended for other than editorial eyes, was published under the heading “Regrettable Error in ignoring a New Tittle!” This was only one of many such incidents that entertained the subscribers and suggested that there might be a subtle influence behind the typographical errors which occurred in the composing room.
Mrs. Pratt’s voice rolled like a relentless sea over that of the others, as she announced: “We’ve bought the Tillington place.”
Miss Brant.—Oh, that charming old house! Tudor, isn’t it? I used to go there as a child. They had some wonderful things. I recall the bookcase especially, that stood opposite the bow-window in the library. Er—er—something like that one, it was. And one knob was off the drawer—I remember it distinctly.
Mrs. Pratt (examining the piece indicated).—I think I’ll take this one.