Miss Mapp Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  The dyer, as Diva had feared, proved perfidious, and it was not till thenext morning that her maid brought her the parcel containing the coatand skirt of the projected costume. Diva had already done her marketing,so that she might have no other calls on her time to interfere with thetacking on of the bunches of pink roses, and she hoped to have the dressfinished in time for Elizabeth's afternoon bridge-party next day, aninvitation to which had just reached her. She had also settled to have acold lunch to-day, so that her cook as well as her parlourmaid coulddevote themselves to the job.

  She herself had taken the jacket for decoration, and was just tackingthe first rose on to the collar, when she looked out of the window, andwhat she saw caused her needle to fall from her nerveless hand. Trippingalong the opposite pavement was Elizabeth. She had on a dress, thematerial of which, after a moment's gaze, Diva identified: it was thatcorn-coloured coat and skirt which she had worn so much last spring. Butthe collar, the cuffs, the waistband and the hem of the skirt werecovered with staring red poppies. Next moment, she called to remembrancethe chintz that had once covered Elizabeth's sofa in the garden-room.

  Diva wasted no time, but rang the bell. She had to make certain.

  "Janet," she said, "go straight out into the High Street, and walk closebehind Miss Mapp. Look very carefully at her dress; see if the poppieson it are of chintz."

  Janet's face fell.

  "Why, ma'am, she's never gone and----" she began.

  "Quick!" said Diva in a strangled voice.

  Diva watched from her window. Janet went out, looked this way and that,spied the quarry, and skimmed up the High Street on feet that twinkledas fast as her mistress's. She came back much out of breath with speedand indignation.

  "Yes, ma'am," she said. "They're chintz sure enough. Tacked on, too,just as you were meaning to do. Oh, ma'am----"

  Janet quite appreciated the magnitude of the calamity and her voicefailed.

  "What are we to do, ma'am?" she added.

  Diva did not reply for a moment, but sat with eyes closed in profoundand concentrated thought. It required no reflection to decide howimpossible it was to appear herself to-morrow in a dress which seemed toape the costume which all Tilling had seen Elizabeth wearing to-day, andat first it looked as if there was nothing to be done with all thoselaboriously acquired bunches of rosebuds; for it was clearly out of thequestion to use them as the decoration for any costume, and idle tothink of sewing them back into the snipped and gashed curtains. Shelooked at the purple skirt and coat that hungered for their flowers, andthen she looked at Janet. Janet was a short, roundabout person; it wasill-naturedly supposed that she had much the same figure as hermistress....

  Then the light broke, dazzling and diabolical, and Diva bounced to herfeet, blinded by its splendour.

  "My coat and skirt are yours, Janet," she said. "Get with the work bothof you. Bustle. Cover it with roses. Have it finished to-night. Wear itto-morrow. Wear it always."

  She gave a loud cackle of laughter and threaded her needle.

  "Lor, ma'am!" said Janet, admiringly. "That's a teaser! And thank you,ma'am!"

  "It was roses, roses all the way." Diva had quite miscalculated thenumber required, and there were sufficient not only to cover collar,cuffs and border of the skirt with them but to make another line of themsix inches above the hem. Original and gorgeous as the dress would be,it was yet a sort of parody of Elizabeth's costume which was attractingso much interest and attention as she popped in and out of shops to-day.To-morrow that would be worn by Janet, and Janet (or Diva was muchmistaken) should encourage her friends to get permission to use up oldbits of chintz. Very likely chintz decoration would become quite a vogueamong the servant maids of Tilling.... How Elizabeth had got hold of theidea mattered nothing, but anyhow she would be surfeited with the ideabefore Diva had finished with her. It was possible, of course (anythingwas possible), that it had occurred to her independently, but Diva wasloath to give so innocent an ancestry to her adoption of it. It was farmore sensible to take for granted that she had got wind of Diva'sinvention by some odious, underhand piece of spying. What that might bemust be investigated (and probably determined) later, but at present thebusiness of Janet's roses eclipsed every other interest.

  Miss Mapp's shopping that morning was unusually prolonged, for it wasimportant that every woman in Tilling should see the poppies on thecorn-coloured ground, and know that she had worn that dress before Divaappeared in some mean adaptation of it. Though the total cost of herentire purchases hardly amounted to a shilling, she went in and out ofan amazing number of shops, and made a prodigious series of inquiriesinto the price of commodities that ranged from motor-cars tosealing-wax, and often entered a shop twice because (wreathed in smilingapologies for her stupidity) she had forgotten what she was told thefirst time. By twelve o'clock she was satisfied that practicallyeverybody, with one exception, had seen her, and that her costume hadaroused a deep sense of jealousy and angry admiration. So cunning wasthe handiwork of herself, Withers and Mary that she felt fairly surethat no one had the slightest notion of how this decoration of poppieswas accomplished, for Evie had run round her in small mouse-likecircles, murmuring to herself: "Very effective idea; is it woven intothe cloth, Elizabeth? Dear me, I wonder where I could get some like it,"and Mrs. Poppit had followed her all up the street, with eyes glued tothe hem of her skirt, and a completely puzzled face: "but then," sothought Elizabeth sweetly "even members of the Order of the BritishEmpire can't have everything their own way." As for the Major, he hadsimply come to a dead stop when he bounced out of his house as shepassed, and said something very gallant and appropriate. Even theabsence of that one inhabitant of Tilling, dear Diva, did not strike ajarring note in this paean of triumph, for Miss Mapp was quite satisfiedthat Diva was busy indoors, working her fingers to the bone over theapplication of bunches of roses, and, as usual, she was perfectlycorrect in her conjecture. But dear Diva would have to see the newfrock to-morrow afternoon, at the latest, when she came to thebridge-party. Perhaps she would then, for the first time, be wearing theroses herself, and everybody would very pleasantly pity her. This was sorapturous a thought, that when Miss Mapp, after her prolonged shoppingand with her almost empty basket, passed Mr. Hopkins standing outsidehis shop on her return home again, she gave him her usual smile, thoughwithout meeting his eye, and tried to forget how much of him she hadseen yesterday. Perhaps she might speak to him to-morrow and graduallyresume ordinary relations, for the prices at the other fish shop were ashigh as the quality of the fish was low.... She told herself that therewas nothing actually immoral in the human skin, however embarrassing itwas.

  * * * * *

  Miss Mapp had experienced a cruel disappointment last night, though thetriumph of this morning had done something to soothe it, for MajorBenjy's window had certainly been lit up to a very late hour, and so itwas clear that he had not been able, twice in succession, to tearhimself away from his diaries, or whatever else detained him, and go tobed at a proper time. Captain Puffin, however, had not sat up late;indeed he must have gone to bed quite unusually early, for his windowwas dark by half-past nine. To-night, again the position was reversed,and it seemed that Major Benjy was "good" and Captain Puffin was "bad."On the whole, then, there was cause for thankfulness, and as she added atin of biscuits and two jars of bovril to her prudent stores, she foundherself a conscious sceptic about those Roman roads. Diaries (perhaps)were a little different, for egoism was a more potent force thanarchaeology, and for her part she now definitely believed that Romanroads spelt some form of drink. She was sorry to believe it, but it washer duty to believe something of the kind, and she really did not knowwhat else to believe. She did not go so far as mentally to accuse him ofdrunkenness, but considering the way he absorbed red-currant fool, itwas clear that he was no foe to alcohol and probably watered the Romanroads with it. With her vivid imagination she pictured him----

  Miss Mapp recalled herself
from this melancholy reflection and put upher hand just in time to save a bottle of bovril which she had put onthe top shelf in front of the sack of flour from tumbling to the ground.With the latest additions she had made to her larder, it requiredconsiderable ingenuity to fit all the tins and packages in, and for awhile she diverted her mind from Captain Puffin's drinking to her owneating. But by careful packing and balancing she managed to stoweverything away with sufficient economy of space to allow her to shutthe door, and then put the card-table in place again. It was then late,and with a fond look at her sweet flowers sleeping in the moonlight, shewent to bed. Captain Puffin's sitting-room was still alight, and even asshe deplored this, his shadow in profile crossed the blind. Shadows werequeer things--she could make a beautiful shadow-rabbit on the wall by adexterous interlacement of fingers and thumbs--and certainly thisshadow, in the momentary glance she had of it, appeared to have a largemoustache. She could make nothing whatever out of that, except tosuppose that just as fingers and thumbs became a rabbit, so his nosebecame a moustache, for he could not have grown one since he came backfrom golf....

  * * * * *

  She was out early for her shopping next morning, for there were somedelicacies to be purchased for her bridge-party, more particularly somelittle chocolate cakes she had lately discovered which looked very smalland innocent, were in reality of so cloying and substantial a nature,that the partaker thereof would probably not feel capable of making anyserious inroads into other provisions. Naturally she was much on thealert to-day, for it was more than possible that Diva's dress wasfinished and in evidence. What colour it would be she did not know, buta large quantity of rosebuds would, even at a distance, makeidentification easy. Diva was certainly not at her window this morning,so it seemed more than probable that they would soon meet.

  Far away, just crossing the High Street at the further end, she caughtsight of a bright patch of purple, very much of the required shape.There was surely a pink border round the skirt and a pink panel on thecollar, and just as surely Mrs. Bartlett, recognizable for her glidingmouse-like walk, was moving in its fascinating wake. Then the purplepatch vanished into a shop, and Miss Mapp, all smiles and poppies, wentwith her basket up the street. Presently she encountered Evie, who, alsoall smiles, seemed to have some communication to make, but only got asfar as "Have you seen"--when she gave a little squeal of laughter, quiteinexplicable, and glided into some dark entry. A minute afterwards, thepurple patch suddenly appeared from a shop and almost collided with her.It was not Diva at all, but Diva's Janet.

  The shock was so indescribably severe that Miss Mapp's smile was frozen,so to speak, as by some sudden congealment on to her face, and did notthaw off it till she had reached the sharp turn at the end of thestreet, where she leaned heavily on the railing and breathed throughher nose. A light autumnal mist overlay the miles of marsh, but the sunwas already drinking it up, promising the Tillingites another goldenday. The tidal river was at the flood, and the bright water lapped thebases of the turf-covered banks that kept it within its course. Beyondthat was the tram-station towards which presently Major Benjy andCaptain Puffin would be hurrying to catch the tram that would take themout to the golf links. The straight road across the marsh was visible,and the railway bridge. All these things were pitilessly unchanged, andMiss Mapp noted them blankly, until rage began to restore the numbedcurrent of her mental processes.

  * * * * *

  If the records of history contained any similar instance of suchtreachery and low cunning as was involved in this plot of Diva's todress Janet in the rosebud chintz, Miss Mapp would have liked to be toldclearly and distinctly what it was. She could trace the workings ofDiva's base mind with absolute accuracy, and if all the archangels inthe hierarchy of heaven had assured her that Diva had originallyintended the rosebuds for Janet, she would have scorned them for theirclumsy perjury. Diva had designed and executed that dress for herself,and just because Miss Mapp's ingenuity (inspired by the two rosebudsthat had fluttered out of the window) had forestalled her, she had takenthis fiendish revenge. It was impossible to pervade the High Streetcovered with chintz poppies when a parlourmaid was being equallypervasive in chintz rosebuds, and what was to be done with this frockexecuted with such mirth and malice by Withers, Mary and herself she hadno idea. She might just as well give it Withers, for she could no longerwear it herself, or tear the poppies from the hem and bestrew the HighStreet with them.... Miss Mapp's face froze into immobility again, forhere, trundling swiftly towards her, was Diva herself.

  Diva appeared not to see her till she got quite close.

  "Morning, Elizabeth," she said. "Seen my Janet anywhere?"

  "No," said Miss Mapp.

  Janet (no doubt according to instructions received) popped out of ashop, and came towards her mistress.

  "Here she is," said Diva. "All right, Janet. You go home. I'll see tothe other things."

  "It's a lovely day," said Miss Mapp, beginning to lash her tail. "Sobright."

  "Yes. Pretty trimming of poppies," said Diva. "Janet's got rosebuds."

  This was too much.

  "Diva, I didn't think it of you," said Miss Mapp in a shaking voice."You saw my new frock yesterday, and you were filled with malice andenvy, Diva, just because I had thought of using flowers off an oldchintz as well as you, and came out first with it. You had meant to wearthat purple frock yourself--though I must say it fits Janetperfectly--and just because I was first in the field you did this. Yougave Janet that frock, so that I should be dressed in the same style asyour parlourmaid, and you've got a black heart, Diva!"

  "That's nonsense," said Diva firmly. "Heart's as red as anybody's, andtalking of black hearts doesn't become _you_, Elizabeth. You knew I wascutting out roses from my curtains----"

  Miss Mapp laughed shrilly.

  "Well, if I happen to notice that you've taken your chintz curtainsdown," she said with an awful distinctness that showed the wisdom-teethof which Diva had got three at the most, "and pink bunches of rosescome flying out of your window into the High Street, even my poor wits,small as they are, are equal to drawing the conclusion that you arecutting roses out of curtains. Your well-known fondness for dress didthe rest. With your permission, Diva, I intend to draw exactly whatconclusions I please on every occasion, including this one."

  "Ho! That's how you got the idea then," said Diva. "I knew you hadcribbed it from me."

  "Cribbed?" asked Miss Mapp, in ironical ignorance of what so vulgar andslangy an expression meant.

  "Cribbed means taking what isn't yours," said Diva. "Even then, if youhad only acted in a straightforward manner----"

  Miss Mapp, shaken as with palsy, regretted that she had let slip, out ofpure childlike joy, in irony, the manner in which she had obtained thepoppy-notion, but in a quarrel regrets are useless, and she went onagain.

  "And would you very kindly explain how or when I have acted in a mannerthat was not straightforward," she asked with laborious politeness. "Ordo I understand that a monopoly of cutting up chintz curtains forpersonal adornment has been bestowed on you by Act of Parliament?"

  "You knew I was meaning to make a frock with chintz roses on it," saidDiva. "You stole my idea. Worked night and day to be first. Just likeyou. Mean behaviour."

  "It was meaner to give that frock to Janet," said Miss Mapp.

  "You can give yours to Withers," snapped Diva.

  "Much obliged, Mrs. Plaistow," said Miss Mapp.

  * * * * *

  Diva had been watching Janet's retreating figure, and feeling thatthough revenge was sweet, revenge was also strangely expensive, for shehad sacrificed one of the most strikingly successful frocks she had evermade on that smoking altar. Now her revenge was gratified, and deeplyshe regretted the frock. Miss Mapp's heart was similarly wrung bytorture: revenge too had been hers (general revenge on Diva forexisting), but this dreadful counter-stroke had made it quite impossiblefor her to enjoy the use
of this frock any more, for she could not habitherself like a housemaid. Each, in fact, had, as matters at presentstood, completely wrecked the other, like two express trains meeting intop-speed collision, and, since the quarrel had clearly risen to itsutmost height, there was no farther joy of battle to be anticipated, butonly the melancholy task of counting the corpses. So they paused,breathing very quickly and trembling, while both sought for some wayout. Besides Miss Mapp had a bridge-party this afternoon, and if theyparted now in this extreme state of tension, Diva might conceivably notcome, thereby robbing herself of her bridge and spoiling her hostess'stable. Naturally any permanent quarrel was not contemplated by either ofthem, for if quarrels were permanent in Tilling, nobody would be onspeaking terms any more with anyone else in a day or two, and (hardlyless disastrous) there could be no fresh quarrels with anybody, sinceyou could not quarrel without words. There might be songs without words,as Mendelssohn had proved, but not rows without words. By what formulacould this deadly antagonism be bridged without delay?

  Diva gazed out over the marsh. She wanted desperately to regain herrosebud-frock, and she knew that Elizabeth was starving for furtherwearing of her poppies. Perhaps the wide, serene plain below inspiredher with a hatred of littleness. There would be no loss of dignity inmaking a proposal that her enemy, she felt sure, would accept: it merelyshowed a Christian spirit, and set an example to Elizabeth, to make thefirst move. Janet she did not consider.

  "If you are in a fit state to listen to reason, Elizabeth," she began.

  Miss Mapp heaved a sigh of relief. Diva had thought of something. Sheswallowed the insult at a gulp.

  "Yes, dear," she said.

  "Got an idea. Take away Janet's frock, and wear it myself. Then you canwear yours. Too pretty for parlour-maids. Eh?"

  A heavenly brightness spread over Miss Mapp's face.

  "Oh, how wonderful of you to have thought of that, Diva," she said. "Buthow shall we explain it all to everybody?"

  Diva clung to her rights. Though clearly Christian, she was human.

  "Say I thought of tacking chintz on and told you," she said.

  "Yes, darling," said Elizabeth. "That's beautiful, I agree. But poorJanet!"

  "I'll give her some other old thing," said Diva. "Good sort, Janet.Wants me to win."

  "And about her having been seen wearing it?"

  "Say she hasn't ever worn it. Say they're mad," said Diva.

  Miss Mapp felt it better to tear herself away before she begandistilling all sorts of acidities that welled up in her fruitful mind.She could, for instance, easily have agreed that nothing was moreprobable than that Janet had been mistaken for her mistress....

  "Au reservoir then, dear," she said tenderly. "See you at about four?And will you wear your pretty rosebud frock?"

  This was agreed to, and Diva went home to take it away from Janet.

  * * * * *

  The reconciliation of course was strictly confined to matters relatingto chintz and did not include such extraneous subjects as coal-strike orfood-hoarding, and even in the first glowing moments of restoredfriendliness, Diva began wondering whether she would have theopportunity that afternoon of testing the truth of her conjecture aboutthe cupboard in the garden-room. Cudgel her brains as she might shecould think of no other _cache_ that could contain the immense amount ofprovisions that Elizabeth had probably accumulated, and she was all onfire to get to practical grips with the problem. As far as tins ofcorned beef and tongues went, Elizabeth might possibly have buried themin her garden in the manner of a dog, but it was not likely that ahoarder would limit herself to things in tins. No: there was a cupboardsomewhere ready to burst with strong supporting foods....

  Diva intentionally arrived a full quarter of an hour on the hither sideof punctuality, and was taken by Withers out into the garden-room, wheretea was laid, and two card-tables were in readiness. She was, of course,the first of the guests, and the moment Withers withdrew to tell hermistress that she had come, Diva stealthily glided to the cupboard, fromin front of which the bridge-table had been removed, feeling the shrilljoy of some romantic treasure hunter. She found the catch, she pressedit, she pulled open the door and the whole of the damning profusion ofprovisions burst upon her delighted eyes. Shelf after shelf was crowdedwith eatables; there were tins of corned beef and tongues (that she knewalready), there was a sack of flour, there were tubes of Bath Oliverbiscuits, bottles of bovril, the yield of a thousand condensed Swisscows, jars of prunes.... All these were in the front row, flush with thedoor, and who knew to what depth the cupboard extended? Even as shefeasted her eyes on this incredible store, some package on the top shelfwavered and toppled, and she had only just time to shut the door again,in order to prevent it falling out on to the floor. But thisdisplacement prevented the door from wholly closing, and push and shoveas Diva might, she could not get the catch to click home, and the onlyresult of her energy and efforts was to give rise to a muffled explosionfrom within, just precisely as if something made of cardboard had burst.That mental image was so vivid that to her fevered imagination it seemedto be real. This was followed by certain faint taps from within against"Elegant Extracts" and "Astronomy."

  Diva grew very red in the face, and said "Drat it" under her breath. Shedid not dare open the door again in order to push things back, for fearof an uncontrollable stream of "things" pouring out. Some nicelybalanced equilibrium had clearly been upset in those capacious shelves,and it was impossible to tell, without looking, how deep and howextensive the disturbance was. And in order to look, she had to open thebookcase again.... Luckily the pressure against the door was notsufficiently heavy to cause it to swing wide, so the best she could dowas to leave it just ajar with temporary quiescence inside.Simultaneously she heard Miss Mapp's step, and had no more than time totrundle at the utmost speed of her whirling feet across to the window,where she stood looking out, and appeared quite unconscious of herhostess's entry.

  "Diva darling, how sweet of you to come so early!" she said. "A littlecosy chat before the others arrive."

  Diva turned round, much startled.

  "Hullo!" she said. "Didn't hear you. Got Janet's frock you see."

  ("What makes Diva's face so red?" thought Miss Mapp.)

  "So I see, darling," she said. "Lovely rose-garden. How well it suitsyou, dear! Did Janet mind?"

  "No. Promised her a new frock at Christmas."

  "That will be nice for Janet," said Elizabeth enthusiastically. "Shallwe pop into the garden, dear, till my guests come?"

  Diva was glad to pop into the garden and get away from the immediatevicinity of the cupboard, for though she had planned and looked forwardto the exposure of Elizabeth's hoarding, she had not meant it to come,as it now probably would, in crashes of tins and bursting of bovrilbottles. Again she had intended to have opened that door quite casuallyand innocently while she was being dummy, so that everyone could see howaccidental the exposure was, and to have gone poking about the cupboardin Elizabeth's absence was a shade too professional, so to speak, forthe usual detective work of Tilling. But the fuse was set now. Sooner orlater the explosion must come. She wondered as they went out to communewith Elizabeth's sweet flowers till the other guests arrived how great atorrent would be let loose. She did not repent her exploration--far fromit--but her pleasurable anticipations were strongly diluted withsuspense.

  Miss Mapp had found such difficulty in getting eight players togetherto-day, that she had transgressed her principles and asked Mrs. Poppitas well as Isabel, and they, with Diva, the two Bartletts, and the Majorand the Captain, formed the party. The moment Mrs. Poppit appeared,Elizabeth hated her more than ever, for she put up her glasses, andbegan to give her patronizing advice about her garden, which she had notbeen allowed to see before.

  "You have quite a pretty little piece of garden, Miss Mapp," she said,"though, to be sure, I fancied from what you said that it was moreextensive. Dear me, your roses do not seem to be doing very well.Probably they are old pl
ants and want renewing. You must send yourgardener round--you keep a gardener?--and I will let you have a dozenvigorous young bushes."

  Miss Mapp licked her dry lips. She kept a kind of gardener: two days aweek.

  "Too good of you," she said, "but that rose-bed is quite sacred, dearMrs. Poppit. Not all the vigorous young bushes in the world would temptme. It's my 'Friendship's Border:' some dear friend gave me each of myrose-trees."

  Mrs. Poppit transferred her gaze to the wistaria that grew over thesteps up to the garden-room. Some of the dear friends she thought mustbe centenarians.

  "Your wistaria wants pruning sadly," she said. "Your gardener does notunderstand wistarias. That corner there was made, I may say, forfuchsias. You should get a dozen choice fuchsias."

  Miss Mapp laughed.

  "Oh, you must excuse me," she said with a glance at Mrs. Poppit'sbrocaded silk. "I can't bear fuchsias. They always remind me ofover-dressed women. Ah, there's Mr. Bartlett. How de do, Padre. And dearEvie!"

  Dear Evie appeared fascinated by Diva's dress.

  "Such beautiful rosebuds," she murmured, "and what lovely shade ofpurple. And Elizabeth's poppies too, quite a pair of you. But surelythis morning, Diva, didn't I see your good Janet in just such anotherdress, and I thought at the time how odd it was that----"

  "If you saw Janet this morning," said Diva quite firmly, "you saw her inher print dress."

  "And here's Major Benjy," said Miss Mapp, who had made her slip abouthis Christian name yesterday, and had been duly entreated to continueslipping. "And Captain Puffin. Well, that is nice! Shall we go into mylittle garden shed, dear Mrs. Poppit, and have our tea?"

  Major Flint was still a little lame, for his golf to-day had been of thenature of gardening, and he hobbled up the steps behind the ladies, withthat little cock-sparrow sailor following him and telling the Padre howbadly and yet how successfully he himself had played.

  "Pleasantest room in Tilling, I always say, Miss Elizabeth," said he,diverting his mind from a mere game to the fairies.

  "My dear little room," said Miss Mapp, knowing that it was much largerthan anything in Mrs. Poppit's house. "So tiny!"

  "Oh, not a bad-sized little room," said Mrs. Poppit encouragingly. "Muchthe same proportions, on a very small scale, as the throne-room atBuckingham Palace."

  "That beautiful throne-room!" exclaimed Miss Mapp. "A cup of tea, dearMrs. Poppit? None of that naughty red-currant fool, I am afraid. And alittle chocolate-cake?"

  These substantial chocolate cakes soon did their fell work of producingthe sense of surfeit, and presently Elizabeth's guests dropped offgorged from the tea-table. Diva fortunately remembered their consistencyin time, and nearly cleared a plate of jumbles instead, which thehostess had hoped would form a pleasant accompaniment to her dessert ather supper this evening, and was still crashingly engaged on them whenthe general drifting movement towards the two bridge-tables set in. Mrs.Poppit, with her glasses up, followed by Isabel, was employed in makinga tour of the room, in case, as Miss Mapp had already determined, shenever saw it again, examining the quality of the carpet, the curtains,the chair-backs with the air of a doubtful purchaser.

  "And quite a quantity of books, I see," she announced as she cameopposite the fatal cupboard. "Look, Isabel, what a quantity of books.There is something strange about them, though; I do not believe they arereal."

  She put out her hand and pulled at the back of one of the volumes of"Elegant Extracts." The door swung open, and from behind it came a noiseof rattling, bumping and clattering. Something soft and heavy thumped onto the floor, and a cloud of floury dust arose. A bottle of bovrilembedded itself quietly there without damage, and a tin of Bath Oliverbiscuits beat a fierce tattoo on one of corned beef. Innumerable driedapricots from the burst package flew about like shrapnel, and tapped atthe tins. A jar of prunes, breaking its fall on the flour, rolledmerrily out into the middle of the floor.

  The din was succeeded by complete silence. The Padre had said "What ho,i' fegs?" during the tumult, but his voice had been drowned by therattling of the dried apricots. The Member of the Order of the BritishEmpire stepped free of the provisions that bumped round her, andexamined them through her glasses. Diva crammed the last jumble intoher mouth and disposed of it with the utmost rapidity. The birthday ofher life had come, as Miss Rossetti said.

  "Dear Elizabeth!" she exclaimed. "What a disaster! All your littlestores in case of the coal strike. Let me help to pick them up. I do notthink anything is broken. Isn't that lucky?"

  Evie hurried to the spot.

  "Such a quantity of good things," she said rapidly under her breath."Tinned meats and bovril and prunes, and ever so many apricots. Let mepick them all up, and with a little dusting.... Why, what a bigcupboard, and such a quantity of good things."

  Miss Mapp had certainly struck a streak of embarrassments. What withnaked Mr. Hopkins, and Janet's frock and this unveiling of her hoard,life seemed at the moment really to consist of nothing else than beastlysituations. How on earth that catch of the door had come undone, she hadno idea, but much as she would have liked to suspect foul play fromsomebody, she was bound to conclude that Mrs. Poppit with her pryinghands had accidentally pressed it. It was like Diva, of course, to breakthe silence with odious allusions to hoarding, and bitterly she wishedthat she had not started the topic the other day, but had been contentto lay in her stores without so pointedly affirming that she was doingnothing of the kind. But this was no time for vain laments, andrestraining a natural impulse to scratch and beat Mrs. Poppit, sheexhibited an admirable inventiveness and composure. Though she knew itwould deceive nobody, everybody had to pretend he was deceived.

  "Oh, my poor little Christmas presents for your needy parishioners,Padre," she said. "You've seen them before you were meant to, and youmust forget all about them. And so little harm done, just an apricot ortwo. Withers will pick them all up, so let us get to our bridge."

  Withers entered the room at this moment to clear away tea, and Miss Mappexplained it all over again.

  "All our little Christmas presents have come tumbling out, Withers," shesaid. "Will you put as many as you can back in the cupboard and take therest indoors? Don't tread on the apricots."

  It was difficult to avoid doing this, as the apricots were everywhere,and their colour on the brown carpet was wonderfully protective. MissMapp herself had already stepped on two, and their adhesive stickinesswas hard to get rid of. In fact, for the next few minutes thecoal-shovel was in strong request for their removal from the soles ofshoes, and the fender was littered with their squashed remains.... Theparty generally was distinctly thoughtful as it sorted itself out intotwo tables, for every single member of it was trying to assimilate theamazing proposition that Miss Mapp had, half-way through September,loaded her cupboard with Christmas presents on a scale that staggeredbelief. The feat required thought: it required a faith so childlike asto verge on the imbecile. Conversation during deals had an awkwardtendency towards discussion of the coal strike. As often as it driftedthere the subject was changed very abruptly, just as if there was someoccult reason for not speaking of so natural a topic. It concernedeverybody, but it was rightly felt to concern Miss Mapp the most....