She was helped, and Nicky's choice was ascertained.
"I don't think," that damsel replied sedately, "that I'll have anything, thank you, Daphne. I'm not very hungry to-day."
Daphne, with a slight twitch at the corners of her mouth—she appreciated Nicky's crooked little ways, despite herself—turned to the guest.
"Will you have pudding or trifle, Sir John? Let me recommend the trifle."
"Thank you, I never eat sweets," was the reply.
An audible sigh of relief rose from the Messrs Vereker.
"Daph, dear," said Nicky before any one else could speak, "I think I'll change my mind and have some trifle."
And thus, by prompt generalship, Miss Veronica Vereker, while obeying to the letter the laws of hospitality and precedence, stole a march upon her slow-moving brethren and sisters and received the lion's share of the trifle, the balance going to Tony by virtue of juniority.
As Daphne handed her triumphant little sister her portion, she distinctly heard a muffled sound on her right.
"I like this man!" she said to herself.