The other pew was the Rector's, and here Daphne succeeded on this particular Sabbath morning in corralling the full strength of her troupe.
Non sine pulvere, however. Ally, as already related, had proved fairly tractable, but Nicky (who just at present stood badly in need of the services of a competent exorcist) had almost evaded ecclesiastical conscription by a new and ingenious device. At ten-fifteen precisely she had fallen heavily down a flight of two steps and sprained her ankle. Unsympathetic Daphne, experienced in the detection of every form of malingering, had despatched her upstairs with a bottle of Mr Elliman's strongest embrocation—the property of Ally—with instructions to anoint the injured member and report herself for duty at ten-forty-five prompt. At the appointed hour Nicky, limping painfully and smiling heroically, had joined the rest of the family in the hall.
Presently Ally remarked casually—
"Rotten stink here. Furniture polish, or something."
"Yes—filthy reek!" agreed Stiffy.
"It's turpentine," cried Cilly, crinkling her nose.
"It's Elliman," said Tony.
"It's you, Nicky!" said everybody at once.
Daphne, who was drawing on her gloves, peeled them off again with some deliberation, and took her youngest sister by the shoulders.
"Nicky," she inquired, "how much Elliman did you use?"