“We raised eight pounds two and ninepence for the organ fund in 1900, at Slocum Magna,” drawled Miss Perry.
“Where, pray, is Slocum Magna?” inquired Lady Charlotte Greg.
Miss Perry had learned by this time that whenever Slocum Magna was mentioned in the presence of London people the question was inevitable. However, before she could take steps to enlighten Lady Charlotte Greg, Cheriton favored her with a paternal finger.
“Permit me, my dear Miss Goose,” said he, elaborately. “Slocum Magna,” he proceeded, with the weighty air of one who is no stranger to the Front Bench, “is the next village to Widdiford.”
“And where, pray, is Widdiford?” inquired Lady Charlotte Greg.
“Widdiford,” said Cheriton, meditatively, “Widdiford is the place where the Red House is and where they haven’t quite got the railway, don’t you know.”
“But it is only three miles away,” chimed Miss Perry.
The pause which ensued made Jim’s mother and the Miss Champneys wonder what was going to happen. All three felt a little uncomfortable. On the contrary, Lady Charlotte Greg felt it to be a tribute to the overpowering nature of her personality, and was gratified accordingly. Cheriton crossed and recrossed his lavender trousers, and changed the glass from the right eye to the left with the air of a High Church clergyman pronouncing the benediction.
“Have you been to see the horses at the Hippodrome?” inquired the undefeated Miss Perry of Lady Charlotte Greg.
“I have not,” said that lady, with a quiver of an evangelical top-knot.