Miss Mapp Read online

  CHAPTER II

  There is not in all England a town so blatantly picturesque as Tilling,nor one, for the lover of level marsh land, of tall reedy dykes, ofenormous sunsets and rims of blue sea on the horizon, with so fortunatean environment. The hill on which it is built rises steeply from thelevel land, and, crowned by the great grave church so conveniently closeto Miss Mapp's residence, positively consists of quaint corners,rough-cast and timber cottages, and mellow Georgian fronts. Corners andquaintnesses, gems, glimpses and bits are an obsession to the artist,and in consequence, during the summer months, not only did the majorityof its inhabitants turn out into the cobbled ways with sketching-blocks,canvases and paintboxes, but every morning brought into the towncharabancs from neighbouring places loaded with passengers, many of whomjoined the artistic residents, and you would have thought (until aninspection of their productions convinced you of the contrary) that sometremendous outburst of Art was rivalling the Italian Renaissance. Forthose who were capable of tackling straight lines and the intricacies ofperspective there were the steep cobbled streets of charming andirregular architecture, while for those who rightly felt themselvescolourists rather than architectural draughtsmen, there was the viewfrom the top of the hill over the marshes. There, but for one straightline to mark the horizon (and that could easily be misty) there were nopetty conventionalities in the way of perspective, and the eagerpractitioner could almost instantly plunge into vivid greens andcelestial blues, or, at sunset, into pinks and chromes and rose-madder.

  Tourists who had no pictorial gifts would pick their way among thesketchers, and search the shops for cracked china and bits of brass. Fewif any of them left without purchasing one of the famous Tillingmoney-boxes, made in the shape of a pottery pig, who bore on his backthat remarkable legend of his authenticity which ran:

  "I won't be druv, Though I am willing. Good morning, my love, Said the Pig of Tilling."

  Miss Mapp had a long shelf full of these in every colour to adorn herdining-room. The one which completed her collection, of a pleasantmagenta colour, had only just been acquired. She called them "My sweetrainbow of piggies," and often when she came down to breakfast,especially if Withers was in the room, she said: "Good morning, quaintlittle piggies." When Withers had left the room she counted them.

  The corner where the street took a turn towards the church, just belowthe window of her garden-room, was easily the most popular stance forsketchers. You were bewildered and bowled over by "bits." For the mostaccomplished of all there was that rarely attempted feat, the view ofthe steep downward street, which, in spite of all the efforts of theartist, insisted, in the sketch, on going up hill instead. Then, next indifficulty, was the street after it had turned, running by thegardener's cottage up to the churchyard and the church. This, in spiteof its difficulty, was a very favourite subject, for it included, on theright of the street, just beyond Miss Mapp's garden wall, the famouscrooked chimney, which was continually copied from every point of view.The expert artist would draw it rather more crooked than it really was,in order that there might be no question that he had not drawn itcrooked by accident. This sketch was usually negotiated from the threesteps in front of Miss Mapp's front door. Opposite thechurch-and-chimney-artists would sit others, drawing the front dooritself (difficult), and moistening their pencils at their cherry lips,while a little further down the street was another battalion hard atwork at the gabled front of the garden-room and its picturesque bow. Itwas a favourite occupation of Miss Mapp's, when there was a decentgathering of artists outside, to pull a table right into the window ofthe garden-room, in full view of them, and, quite unconscious of theirpresence, to arrange flowers there with a smiling and pensivecountenance. She had other little playful public pastimes: she would gether kitten from the house, and induce it to sit on the table while shediverted it with the tassel of the blind, and she would kiss it on itssweet little sooty head, or she would write letters in the window, orplay Patience there, and then suddenly become aware that there was noend of ladies and gentlemen looking at her. Sometimes she would come outof the house, if the steps were very full, with her own sketchingparaphernalia in her hands and say, ever so coyly: "May I scrigglethrough?" or ask the squatters on her own steps if they could find alittle corner for her. That was so interesting for them: they wouldremember afterwards that just while they were engaged on their sketches,the lady of that beautiful house at the corner, who had been playingwith her kitten in the window, came out to sketch too. She addressedgracious and yet humble remarks to them: "I see you are painting mysweet little home. May I look? Oh, what a lovely little sketch!" Once,on a never-to-be-forgotten day, she observed one of them take a camerafrom his pocket and rapidly focus her as she stood on the top step. Sheturned full-faced and smiling to the camera just in time to catch theclick of the shutter, but then it was too late to hide her face, andperhaps the picture might appear in the _Graphic_ or the _Sketch_, oramong the posturing nymphs of a neighbouring watering-place....

  This afternoon she was content to "scriggle" through the sketchers, andhumming a little tune, she passed up to the churchyard. ("Scriggle" wasone of her own words, highly popular; it connoted squeezing andwriggling.) There she carefully concealed herself under the boughs ofthe weeping ash tree directly opposite the famous south porch of thechurch. She had already drawn in the lines of this south porch on hersketching-block, transferring them there by means of a tracing from aphotograph, so that formed a very promising beginning to her sketch. Butshe was nicely placed not only with regard to her sketch, for, bypeeping through the pretty foliage of the tree, she could command thefront door of Mrs. Poppit's (M.B.E.) house.

  Miss Mapp's plans for the bridge-party had, of course, been completelyupset by the encounter with Irene in the High Street. Up till thatmoment she had imagined that, with the two ladies of the house and theBartletts and the Major and the Captain and Godiva and herself, twocomplete tables of bridge would be formed, and she had, therefore,determined that she would not be able to squeeze the party into hernumerous engagements, thereby spoiling the second table. But noweverything was changed: there were eight without her, and unless, at aquarter to four, she saw reason to suppose, by noting the arrivals atthe house, that three bridge tables were in contemplation, she had madeup her mind to "squeeze it in," so that there would be nine gamblers,and Isabel or her mother, if they had any sense of hospitality to theirguests, would be compelled to sit out for ever and ever. Miss Mapp hadbeen urgently invited: sweet Isabel had made a great point of hersqueezing it in, and if sweet Isabel, in order to be certain of acompany of eight, had asked quaint Irene as well, it would serve herright. An additional reason, besides this piece of good-nature inmanaging to squeeze it in, for the sake of sweet Isabel, lay in the factthat she would be able to take some red-currant fool, and after onespoonful exclaim "Delicious," and leave the rest uneaten.

  The white butterflies and the swallows were still enjoying themselves inthe sunshine, and so, too, were the gnats, about whose pleasure,especially when they settled on her face, Miss Mapp did not care somuch. But soon she quite ceased to regard them, for, before the quaintlittle gilded boys on each side of the clock above the north porch hadhammered out the three-quarters after three on their bells, visitorsbegan to arrive at the Poppits' door, and Miss Mapp was very activelooking through the boughs of the weeping ash and sitting down again tosmile and ponder over her sketch with her head a little on one side, ifanybody approached. One by one the expected guests presented themselvesand were admitted: Major Flint and Captain Puffin, the Padre and hiswife, darling Diva with her head muffled in a "cloud," and finallyIrene, still dressed as she had been in the morning, and probablyreeking with scarlet-fever. With the two Poppits these made eightplayers, so as soon as Irene had gone in, Miss Mapp hastily put hersketching things away, and holding her admirably-accurate drawing withits wash of sky not quite dry, in her hand, hurried to the door, for itwould never do to arrive after the two tables had started, since in thatcase it woul
d be she who would have to sit out.

  Boon opened the door to her three staccato little knocks, and sulkilyconsulted his list. She duly appeared on it and was admitted. Havingbanged the door behind her he crushed the list up in his hand and threwit into the fireplace: all those whose presence was desired had arrived,and Boon would turn his bovine eye on any subsequent caller, and saythat his mistress was out.

  "And may I put my sketching things down here, please, Boon," said MissMapp ingratiatingly. "And will no one touch my drawing? It's a littlewet still. The church porch."

  Boon made a grunting noise like the Tilling pig, and slouched away infront of her down the passage leading to the garden, sniffing. Therethey were, with the two bridge-tables set out in a shady corner of thelawn, and a buffet vulgarly heaped with all sorts of dainty confectionswhich made Miss Mapp's mouth water, obliging her to swallow rapidly onceor twice before she could manage a wide, dry smile: Isabel advanced.

  "De-do, dear," said Miss Mapp. "Such a rush! But managed to squeeze itin, as you wouldn't let me off."

  "Oh, that was nice of you, Miss Mapp," said Isabel.

  A wild and awful surmise seized Miss Mapp.

  "And your dear mother?" she said. "Where is Mrs. Poppit?"

  "Mamma had to go to town this morning. She won't be back till close ondinner-time."

  Miss Mapp's smile closed up like a furled umbrella. The trap had snappedbehind her: it was impossible now to scriggle away. She had completed,instead of spoiling, the second table.

  "So we're just eight," said Isabel, poking at her, so to speak, throughthe wires. "Shall we have a rubber first and then some tea? Or teafirst. What says everybody?"

  Restless and hungry murmurs, like those heard at the sea-lions'enclosure in the Zoological Gardens when feeding-time approaches, seemedto indicate tea first, and with gallant greetings from the Major, andarchaistic welcomes from the Padre, Miss Mapp headed the generaldrifting movement towards the buffet. There may have been tea there, butthere was certainly iced coffee and Lager beer and large jugs with dewon the outside and vegetables floating in a bubbling liquid in theinside, and it was all so vulgar and opulent that with one accordeveryone set to work in earnest, in order that the garden should presenta less gross and greedy appearance. But there was no sign at present ofthe red-currant fool, which was baffling....

  "And have you had a good game of golf, Major?" asked Miss Mapp, makingthe best of these miserable circumstances. "Such a lovely day! The whitebutterflies were enjoying----"

  She became aware that Diva and the Padre, who had already heard aboutthe white butterflies, were in her immediate neighbourhood, and brokeoff.

  "Which of you beat? Or should I say 'won!'" she asked.

  Major Flint's long moustache was dripping with Lager beer, and he made adexterous, sucking movement.

  "Well, the Army and the Navy had it out," he said. "And for onceBritain's Navy was not invincible, eh, Puffin?"

  Captain Puffin limped away pretending not to hear, and took his heapedplate and brimming glass in the direction of Irene.

  "But I'm sure Captain Puffin played quite beautifully too," said MissMapp in the vain attempt to detain him. She liked to collect all the menround her, and then scold them for not talking to the other ladies.

  "Well, a game's a game," said the Major. "It gets through the hours,Miss Mapp. Yes: we finished at the fourteenth hole, and hurried back tomore congenial society. And what have you done to-day? Fairy-errands,I'll be bound. Titania! Ha!"

  Suet errands and errands about a missing article of underclothing werereally the most important things that Miss Mapp had done to-day, nowthat her bridge-party scheme had so miscarried, but naturally she wouldnot allude to these.

  "A little gardening," she said. "A little sketching. A little singing.Not time to change my frock and put on something less shabby. But Iwouldn't have kept sweet Isabel's bridge-party waiting for anything, andso I came straight from my painting here. Padre, I've been trying todraw the lovely south porch. But so difficult! I shall give up trying todraw, and just enjoy myself with looking. And there's your dear Evie!How de do, Evie love?"

  Godiva Plaistow had taken off her cloud for purposes of mastication, butwound it tightly round her head again as soon as she had eaten as muchas she could manage. This had to be done on one side of her mouth, orwith the front teeth in the nibbling manner of a rabbit. Everybody, ofcourse, by now knew that she had had a wisdom tooth out at one p.m. withgas, and she could allude to it without explanation.

  "Dreamed I was playing bridge," she said, "and had a hand of aces. As Iplayed the first it went off in my hand. All over. Blood. Hope it'llcome true. Bar the blood."

  Miss Mapp found herself soon afterwards partnered with Major Flint andopposed by Irene and the Padre. They had hardly begun to consider theirfirst hands when Boon staggered out into the garden under the weight ofa large wooden bucket, packed with ice, that surrounded an interiorcylinder.

  "Red currant fool at last," thought Miss Mapp, adding aloud: "O poorlittle me, is it, to declare? Shall I say 'no trumps?'"

  "Mustn't consult your partner, Mapp," said Irene, puffing the end of hercigarette out of its holder. Irene was painfully literal.

  "I don't, darling," said Miss Mapp, beginning to fizz a little. "Notrumps. Not a trump. Not any sort of trump. There! What are we playingfor, by the way?"

  "Bob a hundred," said the Padre, forgetting to be either Scotch orarchaic.

  "Oh, gambler! You want the poor-box to be the rich box, Padre," saidMiss Mapp, surveying her magnificent hand with the greatestsatisfaction. If it had not contained so many court-cards, she wouldhave proposed playing for sixpence, not a shilling a hundred.

  All semblance of manners was invariably thrown to the winds by theladies of Tilling when once bridge began; primeval hatred took theirplace. The winners of any hand were exasperatingly condescending to thelosers, and the losers correspondingly bitter and tremulous. Miss Mappfailed to get her contract, as her partner's contribution to successconsisted of more twos and threes than were ever seen together before,and when quaint Irene at the end said, "Bad luck, Mapp," Miss Mapp'shands trembled so much with passion that she with difficulty marked thescore. But she could command her voice sufficiently to say, "Lovely ofyou to be sympathetic, dear." Irene in answer gave a short, hoarse laughand dealed.

  By this time Boon had deposited at the left hand of each player a cupcontaining a red creamy fluid, on the surface of which bubblesintermittently appeared. Isabel, at this moment being dummy, hadstrolled across from the other table to see that everybody wascomfortable and provided with sustenance in times of stress, and herewas clearly the proper opportunity for Miss Mapp to take a spoonful ofthis attempt at red-currant fool, and with a wry face, hastily (but nottoo hastily) smothered in smiles, to push the revolting compound awayfrom her. But the one spoonful that she took was so delicious andexhilarating, that she was positively unable to be good for Isabel.Instead, she drank her cup to the dregs in an absent manner, whileconsidering how many trumps were out. The red-currant fool made asimilarly agreeable impression on Major Flint.

  "'Pon my word," he said. "That's amazingly good. Cooling on a hot daylike this. Full of champagne."

  Miss Mapp, seeing that it was so popular, had, of course, to claim itagain as a family invention.

  "No, dear Major," she said. "There's no champagne in it. It's myGrandmamma Mapp's famous red-currant fool, with little additions perhapsby me. No champagne: yolk of egg and a little cream. Dear Isabel has gotit very nearly right."

  The Padre had promised to take more tricks in diamonds than he had theslightest chance of doing. His mental worry communicated itself to hisvoice.

  "And why should there be nary a wee drappie o' champagne in it?" hesaid, "though your Grandmamma Mapp did invent it. Weel, let's see yourhand, partner. Eh, that's a sair sight."

  "And there'll be a sair wee score agin us when ye're through with theplayin' o' it," said Irene, in tones that could not be acquitted of amocking inten
t. "Why the hell--hallelujah did you go on when I didn'tsupport you?"

  Even that one glass of red-currant fool, though there was no champagnein it, had produced, together with the certainty that her opponent hadoverbidden his hand, a pleasant exhilaration in Miss Mapp; but yolk ofegg, as everybody knew, was a strong stimulant. Suddenly the namered-currant fool seemed very amusing to her.

  "Red-currant fool!" she said. "What a quaint, old-fashioned name! Ishall invent some others. I shall tell my cook to make somegooseberry-idiot, or strawberry-donkey.... My play, I think. A duckylittle ace of spades."

  "Haw! haw! gooseberry idiot!" said her partner. "Capital! You won't beatthat in a hurry! And a two of spades on the top of it."

  "You wouldn't expect to find a two of spades at the bottom of it," saidthe Padre with singular acidity.

  The Major was quick to resent this kind of comment from a man, cloth orno cloth.

  "Well, by your leave, Bartlett, by your leave, I repeat," he said, "Ishall expect to find twos of spades precisely where I please, and when Iwant your criticism----"

  Miss Mapp hastily intervened.

  "And after my wee ace, a little king-piece," she said. "And if mypartner doesn't play the queen to it! Delicious! And I play just onemore.... Yes ... lovely, partner puts wee trumpy on it! I'm notsurprised; it takes more than that to surprise me; and then Padre's gotanother spade, I ken fine!"

  "Hoots!" said the Padre with temperate disgust.

  The hand proceeded for a round or two in silence, during which, by winksand gestures to Boon, the Major got hold of another cupful ofred-currant fool. There was already a heavy penalty of tricks againstMiss Mapp's opponents, and after a moment's refreshment, the Major led aclub, of which, at this period, Miss Mapp seemed to have none. She felthappier than she had been ever since, trying to spoil Isabel's secondtable, she had only succeeded in completing it.

  "Little trumpy again," she said, putting it on with the lightness of oneof the white butterflies and turning the trick. "Useful littletrumpy----"

  She broke off suddenly from the chant of victory which ladies of Tillingwere accustomed to indulge in during cross-roughs, for she discovered inher hand another more than useless little clubby.... The silence thatsucceeded became tense in quality. Miss Mapp knew she had revoked andsqueezed her brains to think how she could possibly dispose of the card,while there was a certain calmness about the Padre, which but tooclearly indicated that he was quite content to wait for the inevitabledisclosure. This came at the last trick, and though Miss Mapp made oneforlorn attempt to thrust the horrible little clubby underneath theother cards and gather them up, the Padre pounced on it.

  "What ho, fair lady!" he said, now completely restored. "Methinks thouart forsworn! Let me have a keek at the last trick but three! Verily Iwis that thou didst trump ye club aforetime. I said so; there it is. Eh,that's bonny for us, partner!"

  Miss Mapp, of course, denied it all, and a ruthless reconstruction ofthe tricks took place. The Major, still busy with red-currant fool, wasthe last to grasp the disaster, and then instantly deplored theunsportsmanlike greed of his adversaries.

  "Well, I should have thought in a friendly game like this----" he said."Of course, you're within your right, Bartlett: might is right, hey? butupon my word, a pound of flesh, you know.... Can't think what made youdo it, partner."

  "You never asked me if I had any more clubs," said Miss Mapp shrilly,giving up for the moment the contention that she had not revoked. "Ialways ask if my partner has no more of a suit, and I always maintainthat a revoke is more the partner's fault than the player's. Of course,if our adversaries claim it----"

  "Naturally we do, Mapp," said Irene. "You were down on me sharp enoughthe other day."

  Miss Mapp wrinkled her face up into the sweetest and extremest smile ofwhich her mobile features were capable.

  "Darling, you won't mind my telling you that just at this moment you arebeing dummy," she said, "and so you mustn't speak a single word.Otherwise there is no revoke, even if there was at all, which Iconsider far from proved yet."

  There was no further proof possible beyond the clear and final evidenceof the cards, and since everybody, including Miss Mapp herself, wasperfectly well aware that she had revoked, their opponents merely markedup the penalty and the game proceeded. Miss Mapp, of course, followingthe rule of correct behaviour after revoking, stiffened into a state ofoffended dignity, and was extremely polite and distant with partner andadversaries alike. This demeanour became even more majestic when in thenext hand the Major led out of turn. The moment he had done it, MissMapp hurriedly threw a random card out of her hand on to the table, inthe hope that Irene, by some strange aberration, would think she had ledfirst.

  "Wait a second," said she. "I call a lead. Give me a trump, please."

  Suddenly the awful expression as of some outraged empress faded fromMiss Mapp's face, and she gave a little shriek of laughter which soundedlike a squeaking slate pencil.

  "Haven't got one, dear," she said. "Now may I have your permission tolead what I think best? Thank you."

  There now existed between the four players that state of violentanimosity which was the usual atmosphere towards the end of a rubber.But it would have been a capital mistake to suppose that they were notall enjoying themselves immensely. Emotion is the salt of life, and herewas no end of salt. Everyone was overbidding his hand, and the penaltytricks were a glorious cause of vituperation, scarcely veiled, betweenthe partners who had failed to make good, and caused epidemics ofcondescending sympathy from the adversaries which produced a passion inthe losers far keener than their fury at having lost. What made theconcluding stages of this contest the more exciting was that an eveningbreeze suddenly arising just as a deal was ended, made the cards rise inthe air like a covey of partridges. They were recaptured, and all thehands were found to be complete with the exception of Miss Mapp's, whichhad a card missing. This, an ace of hearts, was discovered by the Padre,face upwards, in a bed of mignonette, and he was vehement in claiming afresh deal, on the grounds that the card was exposed. Miss Mapp couldnot speak at all in answer to this preposterous claim: she could onlysmile at him, and proceed to declare trumps as if nothing hadhappened.... The Major alone failed to come up to the full measure ofthese enjoyments, for though all the rest of them were as angry with himas they were with each other, he remained in a most indecorous state ofgood-humour, drinking thirstily of the red-currant fool, and when he wasdummy, quite failing to mind whether Miss Mapp got her contract or not.Captain Puffin, at the other table, seemed to be behaving with the sameimpropriety, for the sound of his shrill, falsetto laugh was as regularas his visits to the bucket of red-currant fool. What if there waschampagne in it after all, so Miss Mapp luridly conjectured! What ifthis unseemly good-humour was due to incipient intoxication? She took alittle more of that delicious decoction herself.

  It was unanimously determined, when the two rubbers came to an endalmost simultaneously, that, as everything was so pleasant andagreeable, there should be no fresh sorting of the players. Besides, thesecond table was only playing stakes of sixpence a hundred, and it wouldbe very awkward and unsettling that anyone should play these moderatepoints in one rubber and those high ones the next. But at this pointMiss Mapp's table was obliged to endure a pause, for the Padre had tohurry away just before six to administer the rite of baptism in thechurch which was so conveniently close. The Major afforded a good dealof amusement, as soon as he was out of hearing, by hoping that he wouldnot baptize the child the Knave of Hearts if it was a boy, or, if agirl, the Queen of Spades; but in order to spare the susceptibilities ofMrs. Bartlett, this admirable joke was not communicated to the nexttable, but enjoyed privately. The author of it, however, made a note inhis mind to tell it to Captain Puffin, in the hopes that it would causehim to forget his ruinous half-crown defeat at golf this morning. Quiteas agreeable was the arrival of a fresh supply of red-currant fool, andas this had been heralded a few minutes before by a loud pop from thebutler's pantry, which lo
oked on to the lawn, Miss Mapp began to waverin her belief that there was no champagne in it, particularly as itwould not have suited the theory by which she accounted for the Major'sunwonted good-humour, and her suggestion that the pop they had all heardso clearly was the opening of a bottle of stone ginger-beer was notdelivered with conviction. To make sure, however, she took one more sipof the new supply, and, irradiated with smiles, made a great concession.

  "I believe I was wrong," she said. "There is something in it beyond yolkof egg and cream. Oh, there's Boon; he will tell us."

  She made a seductive face at Boon, and beckoned to him.

  "Boon, will you think it very inquisitive of me," she asked archly, "ifI ask you whether you have put a teeny drop of champagne into thisdelicious red-currant fool?"

  "A bottle and a half, Miss," said Boon morosely, "and half a pint of oldbrandy. Will you have some more, Miss?"

  Miss Mapp curbed her indignation at this vulgar squandering of preciousliquids, so characteristic of Poppits. She gave a shrill little laugh.

  "Oh, no, thank you, Boon!" she said. "I mustn't have any more.Delicious, though."

  Major Flint let Boon fill up his cup while he was not looking.

  "And we owe this to your grandmother, Miss Mapp?" he asked gallantly."That's a second debt."

  Miss Mapp acknowledged this polite subtlety with a reservation.

  "But not the champagne in it, Major," she said. "Grandmamma Nap----"

  The Major beat his thigh in ecstasy.

  "Ha! That's a good Spoonerism for Miss Isabel's book," he said. "MissIsabel, we've got a new----"

  Miss Mapp was very much puzzled at this slight confusion in her speech,for her utterance was usually remarkably distinct. There might be somelittle joke made at her expense on the effect of Grandmamma Mapp'sinvention if this lovely Spoonerism was published. But if she who hadonly just tasted the red-currant fool tripped in her speech, how amplywere Major Flint's good nature and Captain Puffin's incessant laughaccounted for. She herself felt very good-natured, too. How pleasant itall was!

  "Oh, naughty!" she said to the Major. "Pray, hush! you're disturbingthem at their rubber. And here's the Padre back again!"

  The new rubber had only just begun (indeed, it was lucky that they cuttheir cards without any delay) when Mrs. Poppit appeared on her returnfrom her expedition to London. Miss Mapp begged her to take her hand,and instantly began playing.

  "It would really be a kindness to me, Mrs. Poppit," she said; "(Nodiamonds at all, partner?) but of course, if you won't---- You've beenmissing such a lovely party. So much enjoyment!"

  Suddenly she saw that Mrs. Poppit was wearing on her ample breast asmall piece of riband with a little cross attached to it. Her entirestock of good-humour vanished, and she smiled her widest.

  "We needn't ask what took you to London," she said. "Congratulations!How was the dear King?"

  This rubber was soon over, and even as they were adding up the score,there arose a shrill outcry from the next table, where Mrs. Plaistow, asusual, had made the tale of her winnings sixpence in excess of whatanybody else considered was due to her. The sound of that was sofamiliar that nobody looked up or asked what was going on.

  "Darling Diva and her bawbees, Padre," said Miss Mapp in an aside. "Somodest in her demands. Oh, she's stopped! Somebody has given hersixpence. Not another rubber? Well, perhaps it is rather late, and Imust say good-night to my flowers before they close up for the night.All those shillings mine? Fancy!"

  Miss Mapp was seething with excitement, curiosity and rage, as withMajor Flint on one side of her and Captain Puffin on the other, she wasescorted home. The excitement was due to her winnings, the rage to Mrs.Poppit's Order, the curiosity to the clue she believed she had found tothose inexplicable lights that burned so late in the houses of hercompanions. Certainly it seemed that Major Flint was trying not to stepon the joints of the paving-stones, and succeeding very imperfectly,while Captain Puffin, on her left, was walking very unevenly on thecobbles. Even making due allowance for the difficulty of walking evenlythere at any time, Miss Mapp could not help thinking that a teetotallerwould have made a better job of it than that. Both gentlemen talked atonce, very agreeably but rather carefully, Major Flint promising himselfa studious evening over some very interesting entries in his IndianDiary, while Captain Puffin anticipated the speedy solution of thatproblem about the Roman road which had puzzled him so long. As they saidtheir "Au reservoirs" to her on her doorstep, they took off their hatsmore often than politeness really demanded.

  Once in her house Miss Mapp postponed her good-nights to her sweetflowers, and hurried with the utmost speed of which she was capable toher garden-room, in order to see what her companions were doing. Theywere standing in the middle of the street, and Major Flint, withgesticulating forefinger, was being very impressive over something....

  * * * * *

  Interesting as was Miss Mapp's walk home, and painful as was the lightwhich it had conceivably thrown on the problem that had baffled her forso long, she might have been even more acutely disgusted had shelingered on with the rest of the bridge-party in Mrs. Poppit's garden,so revolting was the sycophantic loyalty of the newly-decorated Memberof the British Empire.... She described minutely her arrival at thePalace, her momentary nervousness as she entered the Throne-room, theinstantaneousness with which that all vanished when she came face toface with her Sovereign.

  "I assure you, he gave the most gracious smile," she said, "just as ifwe had known each other all our lives, and I felt at home at once. Andhe said a few words to me--such a beautiful voice he has. Dear Isabel, Iwish you had been there to hear it, and then----"

  "Oh, Mamma, what did he say?" asked Isabel, to the great relief of Mrs.Plaistow and the Bartletts, for while they were bursting with eagernessto know with the utmost detail all that had taken place, the correctattitude in Tilling was profound indifference to anybody of whateverdegree who did not live at Tilling, and to anything that did not happenthere. In particular, any manifestation of interest in kings or otherdistinguished people was held to be a very miserable failing.... So theyall pretended to look about them, and take no notice of what Mrs. Poppitwas saying, and you might have heard a pin drop. Diva silently andhastily unwound her cloud from over her ears, risking catching cold inthe hole where her tooth had been, so terrified was she of missing asingle syllable.

  "Well, it was very gratifying," said Mrs. Poppit; "he whispered to somegentleman standing near him, who I think was the Lord Chamberlain, andthen told me how interested he had been in the good work of the Tillinghospital, and how especially glad he was to be able--and just then hebegan to pin my Order on--to be able to recognize it. Now I call thatwonderful to know all about the Tilling hospital! And such neat, quickfingers he has: I am sure it would take me double the time to make asafety-pin hold, and then he gave me another smile, and passed me on, soto speak, to the Queen, who stood next him, and who had been listeningto all he had said."

  "And did she speak to you too?" asked Diva, quite unable to maintain theright indifference.

  "Indeed she did: she said, 'So pleased,' and what she put into those twowords I'm sure I can never convey to you. I could hear how sincere theywere: it was no set form of words, as if she meant nothing by it. She_was_ pleased: she was just as interested in what I had done for theTilling hospital as the King was. And the crowds outside: they lined theMall for at least fifty yards. I was bowing and smiling on this side andthat till I felt quite dizzy."

  "And was the Prince of Wales there?" asked Diva, beginning to wind herhead up again. She did not care about the crowds.

  "No, he wasn't there," said Mrs. Poppit, determined to have noembroidery in her story, however much other people, especially MissMapp, decorated remarkable incidents till you hardly recognized them."He wasn't there. I daresay something had unexpectedly detained him,though I shouldn't wonder if before long we all saw him. For I noticedin the evening paper which I was reading on the way down here, af
ter Ihad seen the King, that he was going to stay with Lord Ardingly for thisvery next week-end. And what's the station for Ardingly Park if it isn'tTilling? Though it's quite a private visit, I feel convinced that theright and proper thing for me to do is to be at the station, or, at anyrate, just outside, with my Order on. I shall not claim acquaintancewith him, or anything of that kind," said Mrs. Poppit, fingering herOrder; "but after my reception to-day at the Palace, nothing can be morelikely than that His Majesty might mention--quite casually, ofcourse--to the Prince that he had just given a decoration to Mrs. Poppitof Tilling. And it would make me feel very awkward to think that thathad happened, and I was not somewhere about to make my curtsy."

  "Oh, Mamma, may I stand by you, or behind you?" asked Isabel, completelydazzled by the splendour of this prospect and prancing about thelawn....

  This was quite awful: it was as bad as, if not worse than, thehistorically disastrous remark about super-tax, and a general rigidity,as of some partial cataleptic seizure, froze Mrs. Poppit's guests,rendering them, like incomplete Marconi installations, capable ofreceiving, but not of transmitting. They received these impressions,they also continued (mechanically) to receive more chocolates andsandwiches, and such refreshments as remained on the buffet; but no onecould intervene and stop Mrs. Poppit from exposing herself further. Onereason for this, of course, as already indicated, was that they alllonged for her to expose herself as much as she possibly could, for ifthere was a quality--and, indeed, there were many--on which Tillingprided itself, it was on its immunity from snobbishness: there were, nodoubt, in the great world with which Tilling concerned itself so littlekings and queens and dukes and Members of the Order of the BritishEmpire; but every Tillingite knew that he or she (particularly she) wasjust as good as any of them, and indeed better, being more fortunatethan they in living in Tilling.... And if there was a process in theworld which Tilling detested, it was being patronized, and there wasthis woman telling them all what she felt it right and proper for her,as Mrs. Poppit of Tilling (M.B.E.), to do, when the Heir Apparent shouldpass through the town on Saturday. The rest of them, Mrs. Poppitimplied, might do what they liked, for they did not matter; butshe--she must put on her Order and make her curtsy. And Isabel, by herexpressed desire to stand beside, or even behind, her mother for thisdegrading moment had showed of what stock she came.

  Mrs. Poppit had nothing more to say on this subject; indeed, as Divareflected, there was really nothing more that could be said, unless shesuggested that they should all bow and curtsy to her for the future, andtheir hostess proceeded, as they all took their leave, to hope that theyhad enjoyed the bridge-party which she had been unavoidably preventedfrom attending.

  "But my absence made it possible to include Miss Mapp," she said. "Ishould not have liked poor Miss Mapp to feel left out; I am always gladto give Miss Mapp pleasure. I hope she won her rubber; she does not likelosing. Will no one have a little more red-currant fool? Boon has madeit very tolerably to-day. A Scotch recipe of my great-grandmother's."

  Diva gave a little cackle of laughter as she enfolded herself in hercloud again. She had heard Miss Mapp's ironical inquiry as to how thedear King was, and had thought at the time that it was probably a pitythat Miss Mapp had said that.

  * * * * *

  Though abhorrence of snobbery and immunity from any taint of it was sofine a characteristic of public social life at Tilling, the expectedpassage of this distinguished visitor through the town on Saturday nextbecame very speedily known, and before the wicker-baskets of the ladiesin their morning marketings next day were half full, there was noquarter which the news had failed to reach. Major Flint had it from Mrs.Plaistow, as he went down to the eleven-twenty tram out to thegolf-links, and though he had not much time to spare (for his work lastnight on his old diaries had caused him to breakfast unusually late thatmorning to the accompaniment of a dismal headache fromover-application), he had stopped to converse with Miss Mapp immediatelyafterwards, with one eye on the time, for naturally he could not fireoff that sort of news point-blank at her, as if it was a matter of anyinterest or importance.

  "Good morning, dear lady," he said. "By Jove! what a picture of healthand freshness you are!"

  Miss Mapp cast one glance at her basket to see that the paper quiteconcealed that article of clothing which the perfidious laundry hadfound. (Probably the laundry knew where it was all the time, and--in afigurative sense, of course--was "trying it on.")

  "Early to bed and early to rise, Major," she said. "I saw my sweetflowers open their eyes this morning! Such a beautiful dew!"

  "Well, my diaries kept me up late last night," he said. "When all youfascinating ladies have withdrawn is the only time at which I can bringmyself to sit down to them."

  "Let me recommend six to eight in the morning, Major," said Miss Mappearnestly. "Such a freshness of brain then."

  That seemed to be a cul-de-sac in the way of leading up to the importantsubject, and the Major tried another turning.

  "Good, well-fought game of bridge we had yesterday," he said. "Just metMrs. Plaistow; she stopped on for a chat after we had gone."

  "Dear Diva; she loves a good gossip," said Miss Mapp effusively. "Suchan interest she has in other people's affairs. So human andsympathetic. I'm sure our dear hostess told her all about her adventuresat the Palace."

  There was only seven minutes left before the tram started, and thoughthis was not a perfect opening, it would have to do. Besides, the Majorsaw Mrs. Plaistow coming energetically along the High Street withwhirling feet.

  "Yes, and we haven't finished with--ha--royalty yet," he said, gettingthe odious word out with difficulty. "The Prince of Wales will bepassing through the town on Saturday, on his way to Ardingly Park, wherehe is spending the Sunday."

  Miss Mapp was not betrayed into the smallest expression of interest.

  "That will be nice for him," she said. "He will catch a glimpse of ourbeautiful Tilling."

  "So he will! Well, I'm off for my game of golf. Perhaps the Navy will bea bit more efficient to-day."

  "I'm sure you will both play perfectly!" said Miss Mapp.

  Diva had "popped" into the grocer's. She always popped everywhere justnow; she popped across to see a friend, and she popped home again; shepopped into church on Sunday, and occasionally popped up to town, andMiss Mapp was beginning to feel that somebody ought to let her know,directly or by insinuation, that she popped too much. So, thinking thatan opportunity might present itself now, Miss Mapp read the news-boardoutside the stationer's till Diva popped out of the grocer's again. Theheadlines of news, even the largest of them, hardly reached her brain,because it entirely absorbed in another subject. Of course, the firstthing was to find out by what train....

  Diva trundled swiftly across the street.

  "Good morning, Elizabeth," she said. "You left the party too earlyyesterday. Missed a lot. How the King smiled! How the Queen said 'Sopleased.'"

  "Our dear hostess would like that," said Miss Mapp pensively. "She wouldbe so pleased, too. She and the Queen would both be pleased. Quite apair of them."

  "By the way, on Saturday next----" began Diva.

  "I know, dear," said Miss Mapp. "Major Flint told me. It seemed quite tointerest him. Now I must pop into the stationer's----"

  Diva was really very obtuse.

  "I'm popping in there, too," she said. "Want a time-table of thetrains."

  Wild horses would not have dragged from Miss Mapp that this wasprecisely what she wanted.

  "I only wanted a little ruled paper," she said. "Why, here's dear Eviepopping out just as we pop in! Good morning, sweet Evie. Lovely dayagain."

  Mrs. Bartlett thrust something into her basket which very much resembleda railway time-table. She spoke in a low, quick voice, as if afraid ofbeing overheard, and was otherwise rather like a mouse. When she wasexcited she squeaked.

  "So good for the harvest," she said. "Such an important thing to have agood harvest. I hope next Saturday will be fine;
it would be a pity ifhe had a wet day. We were wondering, Kenneth and I, what would be theproper thing to do, if he came over for service--oh, here is Kenneth!"

  She stopped abruptly, as if afraid that she had betrayed too muchinterest in next Saturday and Sunday. Kenneth would manage it muchbetter.

  "Ha! lady fair," he exclaimed. "Having a bit crack with wee wifey? Anynews this bright morning?"

  "No, dear Padre," said Miss Mapp, showing her gums. "At least, I'veheard nothing of any interest. I can only give you the news of mygarden. Such lovely new roses in bloom to-day, bless them!"

  Mrs. Plaistow had popped into the stationer's, so this perjury wasundetected.

  The Padre was noted for his diplomacy. Just now he wanted to convey theimpression that nothing which could happen next Saturday or Sunday couldbe of the smallest interest to him; whereas he had spent an almostsleepless night in wondering whether it would, in certain circumstances,be proper to make a bow at the beginning of his sermon and another atthe end; whether he ought to meet the visitor at the west door; whetherthe mayor ought to be told, and whether there ought to be specialpsalms....

  "Well, lady fair," he said. "Gossip will have it that ye Prince of Walesis staying at Ardingly for the Sunday; indeed, he will, I suppose, passthrough Tilling on Saturday afternoon----"

  Miss Mapp put her forefinger to her forehead, as if trying to recollectsomething.

  "Yes, now somebody did tell me that," she said. "Major Flint, I believe.But when you asked for news I thought you meant something that reallyinterested me. Yes, Padre?"

  "Aweel, if he comes to service on Sunday----?"

  "Dear Padre, I'm sure he'll hear a very good sermon. Oh, I see what youmean! Whether you ought to have any special hymn? Don't ask poor littleme! Mrs. Poppit, I'm sure, would tell you. She knows all about courtsand etiquette."

  Diva popped out of the stationer's at this moment.

  "Sold out," she announced. "Everybody wanted time-tables this morning.Evie got the last. Have to go to the station."

  "I'll walk with you, Diva, dear," said Miss Mapp. "There's a parcelthat---- Good-bye, dear Evie, au reservoir."

  She kissed her hand to Mrs. Bartlett, leaving a smile behind it, as itfluttered away from her face, for the Padre.

  Miss Mapp was so impenetrably wrapped in thought as she worked among hersweet flowers that afternoon, that she merely stared at a"love-in-a-mist," which she had absently rooted up instead of a piece ofgroundsel, without any bleeding of the heart for one of her sweetflowers. There were two trains by which He might arrive--one at 4.15,which would get him to Ardingly for tea, the other at 6.45. She wasquite determined to see him, but more inflexible than that resolve wasthe Euclidean postulate that no one in Tilling should think that she hadtaken any deliberate step to do so. For the present she had disarmedsuspicion by the blankness of her indifference as to what might happenon Saturday or Sunday; but she herself strongly suspected that everybodyelse, in spite of the public attitude of Tilling to such subjects, wasdetermined to see him too. How to see and not be seen was the questionwhich engrossed her, and though she might possibly happen to be at thatsharp corner outside the station where every motor had to go slow, onthe arrival of the 4.15, it would never do to risk being seen thereagain precisely at 6.45. Mrs. Poppit, shameless in her snobbery, wouldno doubt be at the station with her Order on at both these hours, if thearrival did not take place by the first train, and Isabel would beprancing by or behind her, and, in fact, dreadful though it was tocontemplate, all Tilling, she reluctantly believed, would be hangingabout.... Then an idea struck her, so glorious, that she put theuprooted love-in-a-mist in the weed-basket, instead of planting itagain, and went quickly indoors, up to the attics, and from therepopped--really popped, so tight was the fit--through a trap-door on tothe roof. Yes: the station was plainly visible, and if the 4.15 was thefavoured train, there would certainly be a motor from Ardingly Parkwaiting there in good time for its arrival. From the house-roof shecould ascertain that, and she would then have time to trip down the hilland get to her coal merchant's at that sharp corner outside the station,and ask, rather peremptorily, when the coke for her central heatingmight be expected. It was due now, and though it would be unfortunate ifit arrived before Saturday, it was quite easy to smile away herperemptory manner, and say that Withers had not told her. Miss Mapphated prevarication, but a major force sometimes came along.... But ifno motors from Ardingly Park were in waiting for the 4.15 (as spied fromher house-roof), she need not risk being seen in the neighbourhood ofthe station, but would again make observations some few minutes beforethe 6.45 was due. There was positively no other train by which He couldcome....

  The next day or two saw no traceable developments in the situation, butMiss Mapp's trained sense told her that there was underground work ofsome kind going on: she seemed to hear faint hollow taps and muffledknockings, and, so to speak, the silence of some unusual pregnancy. Upand down the High Street she observed short whispered conversationsgoing on between her friends, which broke off on her approach. This onlyconfirmed her view that these secret colloquies were connected withSaturday afternoon, for it was not to be expected that, after herfreezing reception of the news, any projected snobbishness should beconfided to her, and though she would have liked to know what Diva andIrene and darling Evie were meaning to do, the fact that they none ofthem told her, showed that they were aware that she, at any rate, wasutterly indifferent to and above that sort of thing. She suspected, too,that Major Flint had fallen victim to this unTilling-like mania, for onFriday afternoon, when passing his door, which happened to be standingopen, she quite distinctly saw him in front of his glass in the hall(standing on the head of one of the tigers to secure a better view ofhimself), trying on a silk top-hat. Her own errand at this moment was tothe draper's, where she bought a quantity of pretty pale blue braid, fora little domestic dress-making which was in arrears, and some riband ofthe same tint. At this clever and unusual hour for shopping, the HighStreet was naturally empty, and after a little hesitation and manyanxious glances to right and left, she plunged into the toy-shop andbought a pleasant little Union Jack with a short stick attached to it.She told Mr. Dabnet very distinctly that it was a present for hernephew, and concealed it inside her parasol, where it lay quite flat andmade no perceptible bulge....

  At four o'clock on Saturday afternoon, she remembered that the damp hadcome in through her bedroom ceiling in a storm last winter, and toldWithers she was going to have a look to see if any tiles were loose. Inorder to ascertain this for certain, she took up through the trap door apair of binocular glasses, through which it was also easy to identifyanybody who might be in the open yard outside the station. Even as shelooked, Mrs. Poppit and Isabel crossed the yard into the waiting-roomand ticket-office. It was a little surprising that there were not morefriends in the station-yard, but at the moment she heard a loud Qui-hiin the street below, and cautiously peering over the parapet, she got anadmirable view of the Major in a frock-coat and tall hat. A "Coo-ee"answered him, and Captain Puffin, in a new suit (Miss Mapp was certainof it) and a Panama hat, joined him. They went down the street andturned the corner.... Across the opening to the High Street there shotthe figure of darling Diva.

  While waiting for them to appear again in the station-yard, Miss Mapplooked to see what vehicles were standing there. It was already tenminutes past four, and the Ardingly motors must have been there by thistime, if there was anything "doing" by the 4.15. But positively the onlyvehicle there was an open trolly laden with a piano in a sack. Apartfrom knowing all about that piano, for Mrs. Poppit had talked aboutlittle else than her new upright Bluthner before her visit to BuckinghamPalace, a moment's reflection convinced Miss Mapp that this was a veryunlikely mode of conveyance for any guest.... She watched for a fewmoments more, but as no other friends appeared in the station-yard, sheconcluded that they were hanging about the street somewhere, poorthings, and decided not to make inquiries about her coke just yet.

  She had tea while she
arranged flowers, in the very front of the windowin her garden-room, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing many ofthe baffled loyalists trudging home. There was no need to do more thansmile and tap the window and kiss her hand: they all knew that she hadbeen busy with her flowers, and that she knew what they had been busyabout.... Out again they all came towards half-past six, and when shehad watched the last of them down the hill, she hurried back to theroof again, to make a final inspection of the loose tiles through herbinoculars. Brief but exciting was that inspection, for opposite theentrance to the station was drawn up a motor. So clear was the air andso serviceable her binoculars that she could distinguish the vulgarcoronet on the panels, and as she looked Mrs. Poppit and Isabel hurriedacross the station-yard. It was then but the work of a moment to slip onthe dust-cloak trimmed with blue braid, adjust the hat with the blueriband, and take up the parasol with its furled Union Jack inside it.The stick of the flag was uppermost; she could whip it out in a moment.

  * * * * *

  Miss Mapp had calculated her appearance to a nicety. Just as she got tothe sharp corner opposite the station, where all cars slowed down andher coal-merchant's office was situated, the train drew up. By the gatesinto the yard were standing the Major in his top-hat, the Captain in hisPanama, Irene in a civilized skirt; Diva in a brand-new walking dress,and the Padre and wee wifey. They were all looking in the direction ofthe station, and Miss Mapp stepped into the coal-merchant's unobserved.Oddly enough the coke had been sent three days before, and there was noneed for peremptoriness.

  "So good of you, Mr. Wootten!" she said; "and why is everyone standingabout this afternoon?"

  Mr. Wootten explained the reason of this, and Miss Mapp, grasping herparasol, went out again as the car left the station. There were too manydear friends about, she decided, to use the Union Jack, and having seenwhat she wanted to she determined to slip quietly away again. Alreadythe Major's hat was in his hand, and he was bowing low, so too wereCaptain Puffin and the Padre, while Irene, Diva and Evie were makinglittle ducking movements.... Miss Mapp was determined, when it came toher turn, to show them, as she happened to be on the spot, what a propercurtsy was.

  The car came opposite her, and she curtsied so low that recovery wasimpossible, and she sat down in the road. Her parasol flew out of herhand and out of her parasol flew the Union Jack. She saw a young manlooking out of the window, dressed in khaki, grinning broadly, but not,so she thought, graciously, and it suddenly struck her that there wassomething, beside her own part in the affair, which was not as it shouldbe. As he put his head in again there was loud laughter from the insideof the car.

  Mr. Wootten helped her up and the entire assembly of her friends crowdedround her, hoping she was not hurt.

  "No, dear Major, dear Padre, not at all, thanks," she said. "So stupid:my ancle turned. Oh, yes, the Union Jack I bought for my nephew, it'shis birthday to-morrow. Thank you. I just came to see about my coke: ofcourse I thought the Prince had arrived when you all went down to meetthe 4.15. Fancy my running straight into it all! How well he looked."

  This was all rather lame, and Miss Mapp hailed Mrs. Poppit's appearancefrom the station as a welcome diversion.... Mrs. Poppit was lookingvexed.

  "I hope you saw him well, Mrs. Poppit," said Miss Mapp, "after meetingtwo trains, and taking all that trouble."

  "Saw who?" said Mrs. Poppit with a deplorable lack both of manner andgrammar. "Why"--light seemed to break on her odious countenance. "Why,you don't think that was the Prince, do you, Miss Mapp? He arrived hereat one, so the station-master has just told me, and has been playinggolf all afternoon."

  The Major looked at the Captain, and the Captain at the Major. It wasmonths and months since they had missed their Saturday afternoon's golf.

  "It was the Prince of Wales who looked out of that car-window," saidMiss Mapp firmly. "Such a pleasant smile. I should know it anywhere."

  "The young man who got into the car at the station was no more thePrince of Wales than you are," said Mrs. Poppit shrilly. "I was close tohim as he came out: I curtsied to him before I saw."

  Miss Mapp instantly changed her attack: she could hardly hold her smileon to her face for rage.

  "How very awkward for you," she said. "What a laugh they will all haveover it this evening! Delicious!"

  Mrs. Poppit's face suddenly took on an expression of the tenderestsolicitude.

  "I hope, Miss Mapp, you didn't jar yourself when you sat down in theroad just now," she said.

  "Not at all, thank you so much," said Miss Mapp, hearing her heart beatin her throat.... If she had had a naval fifteen-inch gun handy, and hadknown how to fire it, she would, with a sense of duty accomplished, havedischarged it point-blank at the Order of the Member of the BritishEmpire, and at anybody else who might be within range....

  * * * * *

  Sunday, of course, with all the opportunities of that day, stillremained, and the seats of the auxiliary choir, which wereadvantageously situated, had never been so full, but as it was all nouse, the Major and Captain Puffin left during the sermon to catch the12.20 tram out to the links. On this delightful day it was but naturalthat the pleasant walk there across the marsh was very popular, andgolfers that afternoon had a very trying and nervous time, for theladies of Tilling kept bobbing up from behind sand-dunes and bunkers,as, regardless of the players, they executed swift flank marches in alldirections. Miss Mapp returned exhausted about tea-time to hear fromWithers that the Prince had spent an hour or more rambling about thetown, and had stopped quite five minutes at the corner by thegarden-room. He had actually sat down on Miss Mapp's steps and smoked acigarette. She wondered if the end of the cigarette was there still: itwas hateful to have cigarette-ends defiling the steps to her front-door,and often before now, when sketchers were numerous, she had sent herhousemaid out to remove these untidy relics. She searched for it, butwas obliged to come to the reluctant conclusion that there was nothingto remove....