"Who with?"
"By myself a fair amount."
"Got a pilot certificate?"
"Yes, ages ago."
"I say!" said Flora and began to feel quite hopeful about Anthony's future. "Agnes was in the Flying Corps, you know."
"Agnes?"
"She's housemaid. 'Course she's been up dozens of times but she never handled the joystick. Ever looped?"
"Often."
"You must talk to Agnes," said Flora.
There was a bell under the pony's chin strap and it jingled continually. From her chair by the open French window Mrs. Barraclough could hear the jingle as the cart turned into the lane. Herein lay the essence of using the cart for particular friends, for Mrs. Barraclough knew that as soon as she heard that sound there would be just time to walk down the garden path and be at the gate to welcome the arrival. With the car one could never get there soon enough and to her way of thinking the hospitality of a house should be offered at the entrance to its grounds. She liked to stand under the arboured gate with extended hands and from there to speak the first welcoming words and then to link arms and lead the visitor indoors with promises of tea or fires in bedrooms and little kindly appreciations of the fatigue of travelling. She would as soon have omitted any of these gentle rites as have neglected to satisfy herself that the sheets were properly aired or the carpets swept beneath the beds.