Andrew, turning from the automobile, waved his hand in reply.
"We broke down near the Pavilion Henri Quatre," he called. "The others had breakfast while I was making repairs. I coffeed so late that I wasn't hungry. I knew that I could hold over till tea-time."
The party, five in number, came chattering toward them across the lawn. Old Mrs. Lister led the way, followed by her son and Madame Palffy, whom Mrs. Carnby always invited to Poissy for the first Sunday of the season—"to get it over with," as she had been heard to say. Behind were Andrew and Margery. Jeremy was to bring Palffy, De Boussac, and Ratchett down by the late train, and these, with Kennedy, Radwalader, and Mrs. Ratchett, completed the house-party.
Mrs. Lister, whom Radwalader had described to Andrew as "the jail-breaker, because she never finishes a sentence," plunged abruptly into one of her disconnected prolations, addressing herself to Mrs. Carnby:
"Of course, we are most reprehensibly late—but you see—I don't understand about these things—Mr. Vane said—it's so difficult to comprehend—but it was something that the gravel—or was it the dust?—at all events—and I always say that meals above all things—but then accidents are simply bound to occur—I do hope you didn't wait—and it was delightful—my first experience—but of course we had to—there was no telling how long—though fortunately—and I'm quite fagged out, dear Mrs. Carnby—as I say to Jack—when one is young, you know—but when one gets to fifty-four—though I don't complain—I think one should never regret—and I enjoyed the drive—or does one say ride?—it's so difficult—"
She paused for breath, and Madame Palffy took up the tale.
"It was fas—cinating, fas—cinating," she said, "and most exciting. I reached St. Germain quite en déshabille. Mr. Vane kindly took Margery on the front seat. Mrs. Lister and I sat behind, and Mr. Lister on the floor, with his feet on the step. It was flying."
And she waved her fat hands, and sank ponderously into a chair.
"My most humble apologies, Mrs. Carnby," said Andrew. "It couldn't really be helped, and I provided my crew with sufficient nourishment to keep them alive till dinner."
"You're forgiven," replied his hostess, "only don't do it again. After all," she added, looking Andrew wickedly in the eye, "your crime, like dear old Sir Peter Teazle's, carried its punishment along with it."