 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kelsey Molano. Mismap By E. F. Benson Chapter 5 Part 2 It was still dark when he awoke, but the square of his window was visible against the blackness, and he concluded that though it was not morning yet, it was getting on for morning, which seemed a pity. As he turned over onto his side, his hand came in contact with his coat, instead of a sheet, and he became aware that he had all his clothes on. Then, as with the crash of symbols and the beating of a drum in his brain, the events of the evening before weaved into reality and significance. In a few hours now, arrangements would have been made for a deadly encounter. His anger was gone, his whisky was gone, and in particular his courage was gone. He expressed all this compendiously by moaning, Oh, God! He struggled to a sitting position, and led a match at which he candled his candle. He looked for his watch beside it, but it was not there. What could have happened? Then he remembered that it was in its accustomed place in his waistcoat pocket. A consultation of it, followed by holding it to his ear, only revealed the fact that it had stopped at half past five. With the lucidity that was growing brighter in his brain, he concluded that this stoppage was due to the fact that he had not wound it up. It was after half past five then, but how much later only the Lords of Time knew. Time which boarded so closely on eternity. He felt that he had no use whatever for eternity, but that he must not waste time. Just now, that was far more precious. From somewhere in the cosmic consciousness that came to him a thought, namely that the first train to London started at half past six in the morning. It was a slow train, but it got there, and in any case it went away from tilling. He did not trouble to consider how that thought came to him. The important point was that it had come. Couple with that was the knowledge that it was now an undiscoverable number of minutes after half past five. There was a Gladstone bag under his bed. He had brought it back from the clubhouse only yesterday after that game of golf which had been so full of disturbances and what stockings, but which now wore the shimmering security of peaceful, tranquil days long past. How little, so he thought to himself, as he began swiftly storing shirts, ties, collars, and other useful things into his bag, had he appreciated the sweet amenities of life. Its pleasant conversations and companionships, its tops, drives, and mushrooms and incalculable incidents. Now they wore a glamour and a preciousness that was bound up with life itself. He starved for more of them, not knowing while they were his how sweet they were. The house was not yet a stirrer, one ten minutes later he came downstairs with his bag. He left on his sitting room table where it would catch the eye of his housemaid. A sheet of paper on which he wrote called away. He shuddered as he traced the words. Forward no letters, we'll communicate. Somehow the telegraphic form seemed best to suit the urgency of the situation. Then very quietly he let himself out of his house. He could not help casting an apprehensive glance at the windows of his quantum friend and prospective murderer. To his horror he observed that there was a light behind the blind of the major's bedroom and pictured him writing to his seconds. He wondered who the seconds were going to be or polishing him up his pistols. All the rumors and hints of the major's duals and affairs of honour which he had rather scorned before, not only believing them, poured like a red torrent into his mind and he found that now he believed them with a passionate sincerity. Why had he ever attempted, and with such small success, to call this fire eater a hippopotamus? The gale of the night before had abated and thick chilly rain was falling from the saloon sky as he tiptoed down the hill. Once around the corner and outside of the dualist house he broke into a limping run which was accelerated by the sound of an engine whistle from the station. It was mental suspense of the most agonising kind not to know how long it was after his watch had stopped that he had awoke, and the sound of that whistle, followed by several short puffs of steam, might prove to be the 630 bearing away to London on business or pleasure, its secure and careless pilgrims. Splashing through bottles, lopsidedly waited by his bag. With his macintosh flapping around his legs, he gained the sanctuary of the waiting room and booking office, which was lighted by a dim expiring lamp and scrutinized the face of the murky clock. With a sob of relief he saw that he was in time. He was indeed an exceptionally good time, for he had a quarter of an hour to wait. An anxious internal debate followed as to whether or not he should take a return ticket. Optimism, that is to say, the hope that he would return to tilling in peace and safety before the six months for which the ticket was available and client him to the larger expense. But in these disquieting circumstances, it was difficult to be optimistic, and he purchased a first class single. For on such a morning and on such a journey, he must get what comfort he could from looking glasses, padded seats, and colored photographs of places of interest on the line. He formed no vision at all of the feature. That was a dark well into which it was dangerous to peer. There was no bright speck in its unplungable depths. Unless Major Flint died suddenly without revealing the challenge he had sent last night, and the promptitude with which its recipient had disappeared rather than face his pistol, he could not frame any gripping of events, which would make it possible for him to come back to tilling again. For he would either have to fight, and this he was quite determined not to do, or be pointed at by the finger of scorn as the man who would refuse to do so. And this was nearly as unthinkable as the other. But early he blamed himself for having made a friend who was that an enemy of one so obsolete and old fashioned as to bring dueling into modern life. As far as he could be glad of anything, he was glad that he had taken a single, not a return ticket. He turned his eyes away from the blackness of the feature and let his mind dwell on the hardly less murky past. Then, throwing up his hands, he buried his face in them with a hollow groan. By some miserable forgetfulness, he had left the challenge on his chimney piece, where his house made what undoubtedly find and read it. That would explain his absence far better than the telegraphic instructions he had left on his table. There was no time to go back for it now, even if he could have faced the risk of being seen by the major. And in an hour or two the whole story, by withers, Janet, etc. would be all over tilling. There was no use then thinking of the future nor of the past. And in order to anchor himself to the world at all and preserve his sanity, he had to confine himself to the present. The minutes, long though each tarried, were slipping away and provided his trains punctual, the passage of five more of these lacquards would seem safe. The newsboy took down the shutters of his stall, a porter quenched the expiring lamp, and puffing began to listen for the rumble of the approaching train. It stayed three minutes here, if up to time it would be in before a couple more minutes had passed. There came from the station yard outside the sound of heavy footsteps running. Some early traveler like himself was afraid of missing the train. The door burst open, and streaming with rain and panning for breath, Major Flint stood at the entry. Puffin looked wildly round to see whether he could escape, still perhaps unobserved onto the platform, but it was too late, where their eyes met. In that instant of abject terror, two things struck Puffin. One was that the Major looked at the open door behind him, as if meditating retreat. The second that he carried a Gladstone bag. Simultaneously, Major Flint spoke, if indeed that reverberating thunder of scornful indignation can be called speech. Ha! I guessed right, then, he wrote. I guessed, sir, that you might be meditating flight and I. In fact, I came down to see whether you were running away. I was right. You are a coward, Captain Puffin, but leave your mind, sir. Major Flint will not demean himself to fight with a coward. Puffin gave one long sigh of relief, and then, standing in front of his own Gladstone bag in order to conceal it, burst into a cackling laugh. Indeed, he said, and why, Major, was it necessary for you to pack a Gladstone bag in order to stop me from running away? I'll tell you what has happened. You were running away, and you know it. I guessed you would. I came to stop you, you quaking runaway. Your wound troubled you, hey? Didn't want another, hey? There was an awful pause, broken by the entry from behind the Major of the outside porter, panting under the weight of a large portmanteau. You'd had to take your portmanteau, too, observed Puffin witheringly, in order to stop me? That's a curious way of stopping me. You're a coward, sir, but go home. You're safe enough. This will be a fine story for tea parties. Puffin turned from him and scorned, still concealing his own bag. Unfortunately, the flap of his coat caught it, precariously perched on the bench, and it bumped to the ground. What's that? said Major Flint. They stared up at each other for a moment and then simultaneously burst into peals of laughter. A train rumbled slowly into the station, but neither took the least notice of it, and only shook their hands and broke out again when the stationmaster urged them to take their seats. The only thing that had power to restore Captain Puffin to gravity was the difficulty of getting the money for his ticket refunded, while the departure of the train with his portmanteau in it did the same for the Major. The events of that night in mourning, as may easily be imagined, soon supplied tilling with one of the most remarkable conundrums that had ever been forced upon its notice. Puffin's housemaid during his absence at the station found, and read, not only the notice intended for her eyes, but the challenge which he had left on the chimney piece. She conceived it to be her duty to take it down to Miss Gashley, his cook, and while they were putting the bloodiest construction on these inscriptions, their confidence was interrupted by the return of Captain Puffin in the highest spirits, who, after a vain search for the challenge, was quite content, as its purport was no longer fraught with danger and death to suppose that he had torn it up. Mrs. Gashley, therefore, after preparing breakfast at this unusually early hour, went across to the back door of the Major's house. With the challenging in her hand, she borrowed a nutmeg grater and gleaned the information that Mrs. Dominic's employer, poor master, he could not be called, had gone off in a great hurry to the station early that morning with a Gladstone bag and a portmanteau, the latter of which had been seen no more that the Major had returned. So Mrs. Gashley produced the challenge, and having watched Miss Mapp off to the high street at half past ten, Dominic and Gashley went together to her house to see if withers could supply anything of importance, or, if not, a nutmeg grater. They were forced to be content with the grater, but poured over the challenge with withers, and she having an errand to Diva's house told Janet, who without further ceremony bounded upstairs to tell her mistress. Hardly had Diva heard that she plunged into the high street, and with suitable additions told Miss Mapp, Evie, Irene, and the Padre under promise in each case of the strictest secrecy. Ten minutes later, Irene had asked of the defenseless Mr. Hopkins, who was being at him again, what he knew about it, and Evie, with her mouse-like gait that looked so rapid and was so deliberate had the mortification of seeing Miss Mapp out-distance her and be admitted into the Poppitt's house, just as she came in view of the front door. She rightly conjectured that, after the affair of the store covered in the garden room, there could be nothing of lesser importance than the duel, which could take that lady through those up-hored portals. Finally, at ten minutes past eleven, Major Flint and Captain Puffin were seen by one or two fortunate people, and morning having cleared up. Walking together to the tram, and without exception, everybody knew that they were on their way to fight their duel in some remote hollow of the sand dunes. Miss Mapp had gone straight home from her visit to the Poppitt's, just about eleven, and stationed herself in the window where she could keep an eye on the houses of the duelists. In her anxiety to outstrip Evie and be the first to tell the Poppitt's, she had not waited to hear that they had both come back and knew only of the challenge and that they had gone to the station. She had already formed a glorious idea of her own as to what the history of the duel, past or future, was, and intoxicated with emotion had retired from the wordy fray to think about it, and, as already mentioned, to keep an eye on the two houses just below. Then there appeared in sight the Padre walking swiftly up the hill, and she had barely time under cover of the curtain to regain the table where her sweet chrysanthemums were pining for water when withers announced him. He wore a furrowed brow and quite forgot to speak either Scotch or Elizabethan English. A few rapid words made it clear that they both had heard the main outlines. A terrible situation had said the Padre. Dueling is a direct contravention of all Christian principles and, I believe, of the civil law. The discharge of a pistol and unskillful hands may lead to deplorable results, and major flint, so one has heard, is an experienced duelist. That, of course, makes it even more dangerous. It was at this identical moment that major flint came out of his house, and quee-high, cheerily, to puff in. Mismathing the Padre had deepened his bloody possibilities, neither saw nor heard them. They passed together down the road and into high street, unconscious that their every look in action was being more commoned on the main pistol to the Hebrews. Inside the garden room, Mismathe sighed and bent her eyes on her chrysanthemums. Quite terrible, she said, and in our peaceful, tranquil tilling. Perhaps the duel has already taken place, and they've missed, said the Padre. They were both seen to return to their houses early this morning. By whom, has Mismathe jealously, she had not heard that. By Hopkins, said he, Hopkins saw them both return. I shouldn't trust that man too much, said Mismathe. Hopkins may not be telling the truth. I have no great opinion of his moral standard. Why is that? This is no time to discuss the nudity of Hopkins and Mismathe put the question aside. That doesn't matter now, dear Padre, as she said. I only wish I thought the duel had taken place without accent. But Major Benji, I mean, Major Flint's Portmanteau has not come back to his house. Of that I'm sure. What if they've sent it away to some place where they are unknown, full of pistols and things? Possible. Terribly possible, said the Padre. I wish I could see my duty clear. I should not hesitate to. Well, to do the best I could induce them to abandon the murderous project. And what do you imagine was the root of the quarrel? I couldn't say I'm sure, said Mismathe. She bent her head over the chrysanthemums. They're distracting sex, said he with a moments gallantry, is quite the cause of the quarrel. I've noticed that they both seem to admire Miss Irene very much. Mismathe raised her head and spoke with great animation. Dear Queen Irene, I'm sure has nothing whatever to do with it, she said with a perfect truth. Nothing whatever. There was no mistake in the sincerity of this, and the Padre, tilling right to the marrow, instantly concluded that Mismathe knew what, or who, was the cause of all this unique disturbance. And as she bent her head again over the chrysanthemums, and quite distinctly blue brick red in the face, he felt that delicacy prevented his inquiring any further. What are you going to do, dear Padre, she asked, in a low voice choking with emotion. Whatever you decide will be wise, and Christian, oh these violent men, such babies too. The Padre was bursting with curiosity, but since his delicacy forbade him to ask any of the questions which ever best, like sherbet around his tongue, he propounded another plan. I think my duty is to go straight to the major, he said, there seems to be the principle in the affair, and tell him that I know all, and guess the rest, he added. Nothing that I have said, declared Mismathe a great confusion, must have anything to do with your guesses. Promise me that, Padre. This intimate and fruitful conversation was interrupted by the sound of two pairs of steps just outside, and before withers had time to say, Miss Plastow, diva burst in. They have both taken the 1120 tram, she said, and sank into the mayor's chair. Together, asked Mismathe, feeling a sudden chill of disappointment at the thought of a duel with pistols trailing off into one of the golf clubs. Yes, but that's a blind, he panted, they were talking and laughing together, sheer blind, dual among the sand dunes. Padre, it is your duty to stop it, said Mismathe faintly. But if the pistols are in the portmanteau, he began. What portmanteau, screamed diva, who hadn't heard about that? Darling, I'll tell you presently, said Mismathe. That was only a guess of mine, Padre, but there's no time to lose. But there's no tram to catch, said the Padre, and has gone by this time. A taxi then, Padre, oh, lose no time. Are you coming with me, he said in a low voice, your presence. Better not, she said, it might. Better not, she repeated. He skipped down the steps and was observed running down the street. What about the portmanteau, asked the greedy diva. It was with strong misgivings that the Padre started on his Christian errand, and had not the sense of adventure spice it, he would have probably returned to his sermon instead, which was Christian too. To begin with, there was the ruinous expense of taking a taxi out to the golf leagues, but by no other means could he hope to arrive in time to avert an encounter that might be fatal. It must be said to his credit that, though this was an errand distinctly due to his position as the spiritual head of tilling, he rejected as soon as it occurred to him the idea of charging the hire of the taxi to church expenses, and as he rode along the flat road across the marsh, the thing which chiefly buoyed up his stripping spirits and annealed his courage was the romantic nature of his mission. He no longer, thanks to what Miss Mapp had so clearly referring from saying, he had the slightest doubt that she, in some manner, that scarcely needed conjecture was the cause of the duel he was attempting to avert. For years it had been a matter of unweird and confidential discussion as to whether and when she would marry either Major Flint or Captain Puffin, and it was superfluous to look for any other explanation. It was true that she, in popular parlance, was getting on, but so too, and at exactly the same rate, where the representatives of the United Services, and the sooner that two of the three of them got on, permanently, the better. No doubt some crisis had arisen and inflamed with love. He intended to confide all this to his wife on his return. On his return, the unspoken words made his heart sink. What if he never did return, for he was about to place himself in a position of no common danger. His plan was to drive past the clubhouse, and then on foot, after discharging the taxi, to strike directly into the line of tumbled sand dunes, which, remote and undisturbed, and for all of large, convenient hollows, stretched along the coast and above the flat beach. Any of those hollows he knew might prove to contain the dualists in the very act of firing, and over the rim of each he had to pop his unprotected head. He, if in time, would have to separate the combatants, and who knew whether, in their very natural chagrin of being interrupted, they might not turn their combined pistols on him first, and settle with each other afterwards. One murder the more made little difference to desperate men. Other shocks, less deadly, but extremely unnerving might await him. He might be too late, and pop his head over the edge of one of these craters, only to discover it full of bleeding, if not mangled bodies, or there might be only one mangled body, and the other unmangled would pursue him through the sand dunes and offer him life at the price of silence. That, he painfully reflected, would be a very difficult decision to make. Luckily, Captain Puffin, if he proved to be the survivor, was lain. With a drawn face and agonized prayers on his lips, he began a systematic search of the sand dunes. Often his nerve merely failed him, and he would sink panting among the prickly vents before he dared to appear into the hollow up the sides of which he had climbed. His ears shuddered at the anticipation of hearing from near at hand the report of pistols, and once a backfire from a motor passing along the road caused him to leap high in the air. The sands of these dunes were steep, and his shoes got so full of sand that from time to time, in spite of the urgency of his errand, he was forced to pause in order to empty them out. He stumbled in rabbit holes. He caught his foot and once, his trousers and strands of bark wire, the remnant of coast defenses in the Great War, he crashed among pot-shirts and abandoned kettles, but with a thoroughness that did equal credit to his wind and his Christian spirit, he searched a mile of perilous dunes from end to end, and peered into every important hollow. Two hours later, jaded in torn and streaming with respiration, he came in the vicinity of the clubhouse to the end of his fruitless search. He staggered around the corner of it and came in the view of the eighteenth green. Two figures were occupying it, and one of these was in the act of putting. He missed. Then he saw who the figures were. It was Captain Puffin who had just missed his putt. It was Major Flint who now expressed elated sympathy. Bad luck, old boy, he said. Well, a jolly good match and we have it. Why, there's the Padre. Been for a walk? Join us in around this afternoon, Padre. Blow your sermon. End of Chapter 5 Recording by Kelsey Mollner. Chapter 6 Part 1 Of Mismap This is a Libra box recording. All Libra box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibraVox.org. Mismap by E. F. Benson. Chapter 6 Part 1 The same delightful prospect at the end of the high street over the marsh, which had witnessed not so long ago the final encounter in the Wars of the Roses and the subsequent Armistice was, of course, found to be peculiarly attractive that morning to those who knew and who did not that the combatants had left by the 1120 steam tram to fight among the sand dunes and that the intrepid Padre had rushed after them in a taxi. The Padre's taxi had returned empty and the driver seemed to know nothing whatever about anything. So the only thing for everybody to do was to put off lunch and wait for the arrival of the next tram, which occurred at 137. In consequence, all the doors and tilling flew open like those of cuckoo clocks at ten minutes before that hour, and this pleasant promenade was full of those who so keenly admired autumn tints. From here the progress of the tram across the plane was in full view. So, too, was the shed-like station across the river, which was the terminus of the line, and expectation when the two-wagging little tram approached the end of its journey was so tense that it was almost disagreeable. A couple of hours had elapsed since, like the fishers who sailed away into the west and were seen no more till the corpses lay out on the shining sand, the three had left for the sand dunes, and a couple of hours, so reasoned the cosmic conscience of tilling gave ample time for a duel to be fought, if the Padre was not in time to stop it, and for him to stop it if he was. No surgical assistance, as far as was known, had been summoned, but the reason for that might easily be that a surgeon's skill was no longer, alas, of any avail for one, if not both of the combatants. But if such was the case, it was nice to hope that the Padre had been in time to supply spiritual aid to anyone whom first aid and probes were powerless to succour. The variety of denouements which the approaching tram that had now cut off steam was capable of providing was positively bewildering. They whirled through Mismap's head like the autumn leaves, which she admired so much, and she tried in vain to catch them all, and, when caught, take them off on her fingers. Each, moreover, furnished diverse and legitimate conclusion. For instance, taking the thumb, one, if nobody of the slightest importance arrived by the tram, that might be because, a, nothing had happened, and they were all playing golf, b, the worst had happened, and, as the Padre had feared, the dualists had first shot him and then each other, c, the next worst had happened, and the Padre was arranging for the reverent removal of the corpse of one, Major Benji, or two, Captain Puffin, or those of three both. Mismap let go over thumb and lightly touched her forefinger. The Padre might arrive alone. In that case, anything or nothing might have happened to either or both of the others, and the various contingencies hanging on this arrival were so numerous that there was not time to sort them out. Three. The Padre might arrive with two limping figures whom he assisted. Here it must not be forgotten that Captain Puffin always limped, and the Major occasionally, Mismap did not forget it. Four. The Padre might arrive with a stretcher, query, whose. Five. The Padre might arrive with two stretchers. Six. Three stretchers might arrive from the shining sands at the town where the women were weeping and wringing their hands. In that case, Mismap saw herself busily employed in strengthening poor Evie, who was now running about like a mouse from a group to group, picking up crumbs of cosmic consciousness. Mismap had got as far as thickly, though she was aware she had not exhausted the possibilities when the tram stopped. She furtively took out from her pocket. She had focused them before she had put them in, the opera-glasses through which she had watched the station-yard on a day which had been very much less exciting than this. After one glance she put them back again, feeling vexed and disappointed with herself, for the day-nouement which they had also unerringly disclosed was one that had not entered her mind at all. In that moment she had seen that, out of the tram, there stepped three figures and no stretcher. One figure it is true, limped, but in a manner so natural that she scorned to draw any deductions from that halting gate. They proceeded side by side across the bridge over the river towards the town. It is no use denying that the cosmic consciousness of the ladies of tilling was aware of a disagreeable anticlimax to so many hopes and fears. It had, of course, hope for the best, but it had not expected that the best would be quite as bad as this. The best, to put it frankly, would have been a bandaged arm or something of that kind, there was still room for the more hardened optimists to hope that something of some sort had occurred or that something of some sort had been averted and that the whole affair was not in the delicious new slang phrase of the Padres which were spreading like wildfire through tilling a wash-out. Pistols might have been innocuously discharged for all that was known to the contrary, but it looked bad. Miss Mapp was the first to recover from the blow and took Diva's Poggy hand. Diva, darling, she said, I feel so deeply thankful. What a wonderful and beautiful end to all our anxiety. There was a subconscious regret with regard to the anxiety. The anxiety was, so to speak, a dear and beloved departed, and Diva did not feel so sure that the end was so beautiful and wonderful. Her grandfather, Miss Mapp had reason to know, had been a butcher, and probably some inherited indifference to slaughter lurked in her tainted blood. There's the portmanteau still, she said hopefully. Pistols in the portmanteau Your idea, Elizabeth. Yes, dear, said Elizabeth, but thank God I must have been very wrong about the portmanteau. The outside porter told me that he brought it up from the station to Major Benji's house half an hour ago. Fancy you're not knowing that. I feel sure he is a truthful man, for he attends the Padre's confirmation class. If there had been pistols in it, Major Benji and Captain Puffin would have gone away too. I'm quite happy about that now. It went away, and it has come back. That's all about the portmanteau. She paused a moment. But what does it contain then? She said quickly, more as if she was thinking aloud than talking to Diva. Why did Major Benji pack it and send it to the station this morning? Where has it come back from? Why did it go there? She felt that she was saying too much, and pressed her hand to her head. As all this happened this morning, she said, what a full morning, dear, lovely autumn leaves. I shall go home and have my lunch and rest. Oh, reservoir, Diva! Miss Mab's eternal reservoirs had begun to get on Diva's nerves, and as she lingered here a moment a great idea occurred to her, which temporarily banished the disappointment about the dualists. Elizabeth, as all the world knew, had accumulated a great reservoir of provisions in the false bookcase in her garden room, and Diva determined that, if she could think of a neat phrase, the very next time Elizabeth said oh, reservoir to her, she would work in an allusion to Elizabeth's own reservoir of corned beef, tongue, flour, bow-rill, dried apricots, and condensed milk. She would have time to frame some stinging rejoinder which would escape her when next Elizabeth used that stale old phrase. It would have to be short, swift, and spontaneous, and therefore required careful thought. It would be good to bring pop into it also. Your reservoir in the garden room hasn't gone pop again, I hope, darling, was the first draft that occurred to her, but that was not sufficiently condensed. Pop goes the reservoir on the analogy of the weasel was better. And better than either was there not some sort of corn called Popcorn which Americans ate. Have you any Popcorn in your reservoir? That would be a nasty one. But it all required thinking over, and the side of the Padre in the duelist crossing the field below as she lingered still on this escarpment of the hill, brought the duel back to her mind. It would have been considered inquisitive even at tilling to put direct questions to the combatants, and still hoping for the best ask them point blank who won, or something of that sort. But until she arrived at some sort of information the excruciating pangs of curiosity that must be endured could be likened only to some acute toothache of the mind with no dentist to stop or remove the source of the trouble. Elizabeth had already succumbed to these pangs of surmise and excitement, and had frankly gone home to rest, and her absence, the fact that for the next hour or two she could not, except by some extraordinary feet on the telephone, get hold of anything which would throw light on the whole prodigious situation inflamed Deva's brain to the highest pitch of inventiveness. She knew that she was Elizabeth's inferior in point of reconstructive imagination, and the present moment while the other was recuperating her energies for fresh assaults on the unknown was Deva's opportunity. The one person who might be presumed to know more than anybody else was the Padre, but while he was with the dualists, it was impossible to ask him what had happened as to ask the dualists who had won. She must, while Mismap rested, get hold of the Padre without the dualists. Even as Athena sprang full-grown and penipled from the brain of Zeus, so from Deva's brain there sprang her plan complete. She even resisted the temptation to go on admiring autumn tints in order to see how the interesting trio looked, when, as they must presently do, they passed close to where she stood, and hurried home, pausing only to purchase, pay for, and carry away with her from the provision-shop a large and expensively dressed crab, a dainty of which the Padre was inordinately fond. Ruineness as this was, there was a note of triumph in her voice when, on arrival, she called loudly for Janet, and told her to lay another place on the luncheon table. Then, putting a strong constraint on herself, she waited three minutes by her watch in order to give the Padre time to get home, and then rang him up and reminded him that he had promised to lunch with her that day. It was no use asking him to lunch in such a way that he might refuse. She employed without remorse this pitiless force majeure. The engagement was short and brisk. He pleaded that not even now could he remember even having been asked, which was not surprising, and said that he and we wifey had begun lunch. On which Diva unmasked her last gun, and told him that she had ordered a crab on purpose. That silenced further argument and he said that he and we wifey would be round in a jiffy and rang off. She did not particularly want we wifey, but there was enough crab. Diva felt that she had never laid out force shilling to better purpose, when a quarter of an hour later the Padre gave her the full account of his fruitless search among the sand dunes. So deeply impressive was his sense of being buoyed up that some incredibly fatiguing and perilous excursion by some power outside himself. It never even occurred to her to think that it was an elaborate practical joke on the part of the power outside himself to spur him on to such immense exertions to no purpose at all. He had only got as far as this over his interrupted lunch with we wifey, and though she too was an agonized suspense as to what happened next, she bore the repetition with great equanimity, only making small mouse-like noises of impatience which nobody heard. He was quite forgetting to speak either Scotch or Elizabeth in English, so obvious was the absorption of his hearers, without these added aids to command attention. And then I came round the corner of the clubhouse, he said, and there were Captain Puffin and the Major finishing their match on the eighteenth hole. Then there's been no duel at all, said Diva, scraping the shell of the crab. I feel sure of it. There wouldn't have been time for a duel and a round of golf, in addition to the impossibility of playing golf immediately after a duel. No nerves could stand it. Besides, I asked one of the caddies. They had come straight from the tram to the clubhouse and from the clubhouse to the first tee. They had not been alone for a moment. Wash out, said Diva, wondering whether this had been worth for shillings, so tame was the conclusion. Mrs. Bartlett gave a little squeak which was her preliminary to speech. But I do not see why there may not be a duel yet, Kenneth, she said, because they did not fight this morning. Excellent crab, dear Diva, so good of you to ask us. There's no reason why there shouldn't be a duel this afternoon. Oh, dear me, and cold beef as well, I shall be quite stuffed. Depend upon it, a man doesn't take the trouble to write a challenge in all that, unless he means business. The Padre held up his hand. He felt that he was gradually growing to be the hero of the whole affair. He had certainly looked over the edge of numberless hollows in the sand dunes with vivid anticipations of having a bullet whizz by him on each separate occasion. It behooved him to take a sublime line. My dear, he said, the business is hardly a word to apply to murder. That within the last twenty-four hours there was the intention of fighting a duel I don't deny. But something has decidedly happened which has averted that deplorable calamity. Peace and reconciliation is the result of it, and I have never seen two men so unaffectedly friendly. Diva got up and whirled around the table to get the port for the Padre, so pleased was she at a fresh idea coming to her, while still dear Elizabeth was resting. She attributed it to the crab. We've all been on a false scent, she said. Peace and reconciliation happened before they went out to the sand dunes at all. It happened at the station. They met at the station, you know. It is proved that Major Flint went there. Major wouldn't send Portmanteau off alone. And it's proved that Captain Puffin went there too, because the note which his housemaid found on the table before she saw the challenge from the Major, which was on the chimneypiece, said that he had been called away very suddenly. No, they both went to catch the early train in order to go away before they could be stopped and kill each other. But why didn't they go? What happened? Don't suppose the outside porters showed them how wicked they were, confirmation class or no confirmation class. Stumps me. Almost wish Elizabeth was here. She's good at guessing. The Padres' eye brightened. Reaction after the perils of the morning, crab and port combined to make a man of him. Eh! Tizabani we drappy of Port whatever, Mistress Plastau, he said. An Adina Ken that you're far wrong in Jelucing that Mistress Mat might have a wee bitty word to say about it. Again she had the mind. She was wrong about the Portmanteau, said Diva, confessed she was wrong. Hoots! I'm not mind in the bit Portmante, said the Padre. What else does she know? Asked Diva, feverishly. There was no doubt that the Padre had the fullest attention of the two ladies again, and there was no need to talk Scotch any more. Begin at the beginning, he said. What do we suppose was the cause of the quarrel? Anything, said Diva, gulf, tiger-skins, coal-strike, summertime? He shook his head. I grant you words may pass on such subjects, he said. We feel keenly I know about summertime and tilling, though we shall all be reconciled over the next Sunday when real time, God's time as I am venturing to call it in my sermon, comes in again. Diva had to bite her tongue to prevent herself bolting off on this new scent. After all, she had invested in crab to learn about dueling, not about summertime. Well, she said. We may have had words on that subject, said the Padre, booming as if he was in the pulpit already, but we should, I hope, none of us go so far as to catch the earliest train with pistols in defence of our conviction about summertime. No, Mrs. Plastow, if you are right, and there is something to be said for your view, in thinking that they both went to such lengths as to be in time for the early train, in order to fight a duel undisturbed, you must look for a more solid cause than that. Diva vainly wracked her brains to think of anything more worthy of the highest pitches of emotion than this. If it had been she and Miss Mapp who had been embroiled, hoarding and dress would have occurred to her. But as it was, no one in his senses could dream that the captain and the major were sartorial rivals, unless they had quarreled over the question as to which of them were the snuffiest old clothes. Give it up, she said, what did they quarrel about? Passion, said the Padre, in those full deep tones, in which next Sunday he would allude to God's time. I do not mean anger, but the flame that exalts men to heaven or—or does exactly the opposite. But whomever for, asked Diva, quite thrown off her bearings. Such a thing had never occurred to her, for as far as she was aware, passion, except in the sense of temper, did not exist in tilling. Tilling was far too respectable. The Padre considered this a moment. I am betraying no confidence, he said, because no one has confided in me. But there certainly as a lady in this town I do not allude to Miss Irene, who has long enjoyed the major's particular esteem. May not some deprecating remark? We wifey gave a much louder squeal than usual. He means poor Elizabeth, she said in a high, tremulous voice. Fancy, Kenneth! Diva, a few seconds before, had seen no reason why the Padre should drink the rest of her port, and was now in the act of drinking some of that unusual beverage herself. She tried to swallow it, but it was too late, and next moment all the openings in her face were fountains of that delicious wine. She choked and she gurgled, until the last drop had left her windpipe, under the persuasion of paddings on the back from the others, and then she gave herself up to loud hoarse laughter, through which were shrilled the staccato squeaks of we wifey. Nothing, even if you are being laughed at yourself, is so infectious as prolonged laughter, and the Padre felt himself forced to join it. When one of them got a little better, a relapse ensued by reason of infection from the others, and it was not till exhaustion set in that this triple volcano became quiescent again. Only fancy, said Evie faintly. How did such an idea get into your head, Kenneth? His voice shook as he answered. Well, we were all a little worked up this morning, he said. The idea, really, I don't know what we have all been laughing at. I do, said Diva. Go on. About the idea. A feminine, a diabolical inspiration flared within Wee Wifey's mind. Elizabeth suggested it herself, she squealed. Naturally, Miss Diva could not help remembering that she had found Mismap in the Padre in earnest conversation together when she forced her way in that morning with the news that the dualists had left by the eleven-twenty tram. Nobody could be expected to have so short a memory as to have forgotten that. Just now she forgave Elizabeth for anything she had ever done. That might have to be reconsidered afterwards, but at present it was valid enough. Did she suggest it? She asked. The Padre behaved like a man and lied like Ananias. Most emphatically she did not, he said. The disappointment would have been severe had the two ladies believed this confident assertion and Diva pictured a delightful interview with Elizabeth in which she would suddenly tell her the wild surmise the Padre had made with regard to the cause of the dual and see how she looked then. Just see how she looked then. That was all. Self-consciousness and guilt would let fly their colours. End of Chapter 6 Part 1 Chapter 6 Part 2 of Mismap This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Mismap by E. F. Benson Chapter 6 Part 2 Mismap had been tempted when she went home that morning after enjoying the autumn tints to ask Diva to lunch with her, but remembered in time that she had told her cook to broach one of the tins of corned beef which no human wizard could coax into the store recovered again if he shut the door after it. Diva would have been sure to say something acid and elusive to her mark on its excellence being happily not wasted on the poor people in the hospital, or if she had not said anything at all about it, her silence as she ate a great deal would have had a sharp flavour. But Mismap would have liked especially when she went to take her rest afterwards on the big sofa in the garden-room to have had somebody to talk to, for her brain seethed with conjectures as to what had happened, was happening, and would happen, and discussion was the best method of simplifying a problem, of narrowing it down to the limits of probability, whereas when she was alone now with her own imaginings the most fantastic of them seemed plausible. She had, however, handed a glorious suggestion to the Padre, the one that is, which concerned the cause of the duel, and it had been highly satisfactory to observe the sympathy and respect with which she had imbibed it. She had, too, been so discreet about it. She had not come within measurable distance of asserting that the challenge had been in any way connected with her. She had only been very emphatic on the point of its not being connected with poor dear Irene, then occupied herself with her sweet flowers. That had been sufficient, and she felt in her bones and marrow that he inferred what she had meant him to infer. The vulture of surmise ceased to peck at her for a few moments as she considered this, and followed up a thread of gold. Though the Padre would surely be discreet, she hoped that he would let slip to dear Evie in the course of the vivid conversation they would be sure to have over lunch, that he had a good guess as to the cause which had led to that savage challenge. Upon which, dear Evie would be certain to apply him with direct squeaks and questions, and when she got hot, as in animal, vegetable, and mineral, his reticence would lead her to make a good guess, too. She might be incredulous, but there the idea would be in her mind, while if she felt that these stirring days were no time for skepticism, she could hardly fail to be interested and touched. Before long, how soon Miss Mapp was happily not aware, she would pop in to see Diva, or Diva would pop in to see her, and Evie, observing a discretion similar to that of the Padre in herself, would soon enable dear Diva to make a good guess, too. After that, all would be well for dear Diva, such a gossiping darling, would undoubtedly tell everybody in Tilling, under vows of secrecy, so that she should have the pleasure of telling everybody in herself, just what her good guess was. Thus very presently, all Tilling would know exactly that which Miss Mapp had not said to the dear Padre, namely that the duel which had been fought, or which hadn't been fought, was all about her. And the best of it was that though everybody knew, it would still be a great and beautiful secret, reposing inviolably in every breast or chest as the case may be. She had no anxiety about anybody asking direct questions of the duelists, for if Dueling, for years past, had been a subject which no delicately minded person alluded to purposefully in Major Benji's presence, how much more now after this critical morning would that subject be Tabu? That certainly was a good thing, for the duelists, if closely questioned, might have had a different explanation, and it would be highly inconvenient to have two contradictory stories going about. But as it was, nothing could be nicer. The whole of the rest of Tilling, under promise of secrecy, would know, and even if under further promises of secrecy, they communicated their secret to each other, there would be no harm done. After this excursion into Elysian fields, poor Miss Mapp had to get back to her vulture again, and the hours rest that she had felt was due to herself as the heroine of a duel became a period of extraordinary cerebral activity. Puzzle, as she might, she could make nothing whatever of the portmanteau and the excursion to the early train, and she got up long before her hour was over, since she found that the more she thought, the more invincible were the objections to any conclusion that she drowningly grasped at. Whatever attack she made on this mystery, the garrison failed to march out and surrender, but kept their flag flying, and her conjectures were woefully blasted by the forces of the most elementary reasons. But as the agony of suspense, if no fresh topic of interest intervened, would be frankly unendurable, she determined to concentrate no more on it, but rather to commit it to the ice-house or safe of her subconscious mind, from which at will, when she felt refreshed and reinvigorated, she could unlock it and examine it again. The whole problem was more superlatively baffling than any that she could remember having encountered in all these inquisitive years, just as the subject of it was more majestic than any, for it concerned not hoarding, nor visits of the Prince of Wales, nor poppy-trimmed gowns, but life and death and firing of deadly pistols. And should love be added to this august list? Certainly not by her, though Tilling might do what it liked, in fact, Tilling always did. She walked across to the bow window from which she had conducted so many exciting and successful investigations. But today the view seemed as stale and unprofitable as the world appeared to hamlet, even though Mrs. Poppet at that moment went waddling down the street and disappeared round the corner where the dentist and Mr. Weiss lived. With a sense of fatigue Miss Mapp recalled the fact that she had seen the housemaid cleaning Mr. Weiss's windows yesterday. Children dear, was it yesterday? And had noted her industry, and drawn from it the irresistible conclusion that Mr. Weiss was probably expected home. He usually came back about mid-October and let slip allusions to his enjoyable visits in Scotland and his Villa Ghiattura so he was pleased to express it with his sister the Contessa Defagliona at Capri. That Contessa Ferriglione was rather a mythical personage to Miss Mapp's mind. She was certainly not in a medieval copy of Who's Who which was the only accessible handbook in matters relating to noble and notable personages and though Miss Mapp would not have taken a note that she did not exist she saw no strong reason for supposing that she did. Certainly she had never been to Tilling which was strange as her brother lived there and there was nothing but her brother's allusions to certify her. About Mrs. Poppet now had she gone to see Mr. Weiss or had she gone to the dentist? One or other it must be for apart from them that particular street contained nobody who counted and at the bottom it simply conducted you out into the uneventful country. Mrs. Poppet was all dressed up and she would never walk in the country in such a costume. It would do either for Mr. Weiss or the dentist for she was the sort of woman who would like to appear grand in the dentist's chair so that he might be shy of hurting such a fine lady. Then again Mrs. Poppet had wonderful teeth almost too good to be true and before now she had asked who lived at the pretty little house just round the corner as if to show that she didn't know where the dentist lived or had she found out by some underhand of means that Mr. Weiss had come back and had gone to call on him and give him the first news of the duel and talk to him about Scotland. Very likely they had neither of them been to Scotland at all. They conspired to say that they had been to Scotland and stayed at shooting lodges Keeper's lodges more likely in order to impress tilling with their magnificence. Miss Mapp sat down on the central heating pipes in her window and fell into one of her reconstructive musings. Partly if Mr. Weiss was back it was well just to run over his record. Partly she wanted to divert her mind from the two houses just below that of Major Benji on the one side and that of Captain Puffin on the other which contained the key to the great insoluble mystery from conjecture as to which she wanted to obtain relief. Mr. Weiss anyhow would serve as a mild opiate for she had never lost an angry interest in him. Though he was for eight months of the year or thereabouts in tilling he was never for a single hour of tilling. He did not exactly invest himself with an air of condescension and superiority. Miss Mapp did him that justice. But he made other people invest him with it so that it came to the same thing. He was invested. He did not drag the fact of his sister being the Contessa Ferriglione into conversation. But if Top turned on sisters and he was asked about his he confessed to her nobility. The same phenomenon appeared when the innocent county of Hampshire was mentioned for it turned out that he knew the county well being one of the wisest of what church. You couldn't say he talked about it but he made other people talk about it. He was quite impervious to satire on such points for when goaded to madness Miss Mapp had once said that she was one of the maps of Maidstone he had merely bowed and said a very old family I believe and when the conversation branched off onto old families he had rather pointedly said we to Miss Mapp. So poor Miss Mapp was sorry she had been satirical. But for some reason tilling never ceased to play up to Mr. Weiss and there was not a tea party or bridge party given during the whole period of his residence there to which he was not invited. Hostesses always started with him sending him round a note with to await answer written in the top left hand corner since he had clearly stated that he considered the telephone an undignified instrument only fit to be used for household purposes and had installed his in the kitchen in the manner of the wisest of what church. That alone apart from Mr. Weiss's old fashioned notions on the subject made telephoning impossible for your summons was usually answered by his cook who instantly began scolding the butcher irrespective and disrespective of whom you were. When her mistake was made known to her she never apologized but grudgingly said she would call Mr. Figgis who was Mr. Weiss's valet. Mr. Figgis always took a long time in coming and when he came he sneezed or did something disagreeable and said yes yes what is it in a very testy manner. After explanations he would consent to tell his master which took another long time and even then Mr. Weiss did not come himself and usually refused the proffered invitation. Miss Mapp had tried the expedient of sending withers to the telephone when she wanted to get it Mr. Weiss's but this had not succeeded for withers and Mr. Weiss's cook quarreled so violently before they got to business that Mr. Figgis had to calm the cook and withers to complain to Miss Mapp This in brief was the general reason why Tillings sent notes to Mr. Weiss. As for chatting through the telephone which was the main use of telephones the thing was quite out of the question. Miss Mapp revived a little as she made this piercing analysis of Mr. Weiss and the warmth of the central heating pipes on this baffling day of autumn temps was comforting. No one could say that Mr. Weiss was not punctilius in matters of social etiquette for though he refused three quarters of the invitations which were showered on him he invariably returned the compliment by an autographed note hoping that he might have the pleasure of entertaining you at lunch on Thursday next for he always gave a small luncheon party on Thursday. These invitations were couched in Chesterfield terms. Mr. Weiss said that he had met a mutual friend just now who had informed him that you were in residence and had encouraged him to hope that you might give him the pleasure of your company, etc. This was a luring diction. It presented the image of Mr. Weiss stepping briskly home again quite heartened up by this chance encounter and no longer the prey to melancholy at the thought that you might not give him the joy. He was encouraged to hope. These polite expressions were traced in a neat upright hand on paper which when he had just come back from Italy often bore a coronet on the top with Villa Feriglioni Capri printed on the right hand top corner and Amelia the name of his putative sister in sprawling guilt on the left the whole being lightly erased. Of course he was quite right to filter few sheets but it threw rather a lurid light on his character that they should be such grand ones. Last year only in a fit of passion at Mr. Weiss having refused six invitations running on the plea of other engagements Ms. Mapp had headed a movement the object of which was that tillings should not accept any of Mr. Weiss's invitations unless he accepted its. This had met with a theoretical sympathy. The Bartlets Diva, Irene, the Poppots had all agreed rather absently that it would be a very proper thing to do but the very next Thursday they had all including the originator met on Mr. Weiss's doorstep for a luncheon party and the movement then and there collapsed. Though they all protested and rebelled against such a notion the horrid fact remained that everybody basked in Mr. Weiss's effulgence whenever it was disposed to shed itself on them. Much as they distrusted the information they dragged out of him they adored hearing about the Villa Feriglione and dressed themselves in their very best clothes to do so. Then again there was the quality of the lunch itself. Often there was caviar and it was impossible though the interrogator who asked whether it came from twin flows feared the worst. Not to be mildly excited to know when Mr. Weiss referred the question to Figus that the caviar had arrived from Odessa that morning. The hunch of Rodeer came from Perthshire the wine on the subject of which the major could not be silent and which often made him extremely talkative was from my brother-in-law's vineyard. And Mr. Weiss would taste it with the air of a connoisseur and say not quite as good as last year I must tell the con— I mean my sister. Again when Mr. Weiss did condescend to honor a tea party or a bridge party tilling rides and the conscientiousness that their general deportment was quite different from that which they ordinarily practiced among themselves. There was never any squabbling at Mr. Weiss's table and such squabbling as took place at the other table was conducted in low hissings and whispers so that Mr. Weiss should not hear. Diva never hackled over her gains or losses when he was there. The Padre never talked Scotch or Elizabeth in English. Evie never squeaked like a mouse. No shrill recriminations or stately sarcasms took place between partners. And if there happened to be a little disagreement about the rules Mr. Weiss's decision, though he was not a better player than any of them, was accepted without a murmurmer. At intervals for refreshment, in the same way, Diva no longer filled her mouth in both hands with nougat chocolate. There was no scrambling or jostling, but the ladies were waited on by the gentlemen who then refreshed themselves. And yet Mr. Weiss in no way asserted himself or reduced the multiple lightness by talking about the polished manner of Italians. It was tilling itself which chose to behave in this unusual manner in his presence. Sometimes Diva might forget herself for a moment and address something withering to her partner, but the partner never replied in suitable terms and Diva became honey-maled again. It was, indeed, if Mr. Weiss had appeared at two or three parties, rather a relief not to find him at the next, and breathed freely in less rarefied air. But whether or not he came, he always returned the invitation by one to a Thursday luncheon party, and thus the high circles of tilling met every week at his house. MissMap came to the end of this brief retrospect and determined when once it was proved that Mr. Weiss had arrived to ask him to tea on Tuesday. That would mean lunch with him on Thursday, and it was unnecessary to ask anybody else unless Mr. Weiss accepted. If he refused, there would be no tea party, but after the events of the last twenty-four hours there was no vividness in these plans and reminiscences and her eye turned to the profile of the Colonel's house. The portmanteau, she said to herself. No, she must take her mind off that subject. She would go for a walk. Not into the high street, but into the quiet level country, away from the turmoil of passion in the Padre's sense, and quarrels in her own, where she could cool her curiosity in her soul with contemplation of the swallows and the white butterflies, if they had not all been killed by the touch of frost last night, and the autumn tints of which there were none whatever in the treeless marsh. Decidedly the shortest way out of the town was that which led past Mr. Weiss's house. But before leaving the garden room she practiced several faces at the looking glass opposite the door, which should suitably express if she met anybody to whom the cause of the challenge was likely to have spread, the bewildering emotion which the unwilling cause of it must feel. There must be a wistful wonder, there must be a certain pride, there must be the remains of romantic excitement, and there must be deep womanly anxiety. The carriage of the head did the pride, the wide open eyes did the wistful wonder and the romance, the deep womanly anxiety lurked in the tremulous smile and a violent rubbing of the cheeks produced the color of excitement. In answer to any impertinent questions if she encountered such she meant to give an absent answer as if she had not understood. Thus equipped she set forth. It was rather disappointing to meet nobody, but as she passed Mr. Weiss's bow windows she adjusted the chrysanthemum she wore and she had a good sight of his profile in the back of Mrs. Poppett's head. They appeared deep in conversation and Miss Matt felt that the tiresome woman was probably giving him a very incomplete account of what had happened. She returned late for tea and broke off her apologies to withers for being such a trouble because she saw a note on the hall table. There was a cornet on the back of the envelope and it was addressed in the neat punctilious hand which so well expressed its rider. Villa Ferriglione Capri, a cornet and Amelia, all lightly crossed out headed the page and she read Dear Miss Matt, it is such a pleasure to find myself in our little tilling again and our mutual friend, Mrs. Poppett, M-B-E, tells me you are in residence and encourages me to hope that I may induce you to take Dejeuner with me on Thursday at one o'clock. May I assure you with all delicacy that you will not meet here any one whose presence could cause you the slightest embarrassment? Pray excuse this hasty note. Figus will wait for your answer if you are in. Yours very sincerely, Algernon wise. Had not withers been present, who might have misconstrued her action, Miss Matt would have kissed the note. Failing that, she forgave Mrs. Poppett for being an M-B-E. The dear woman, she said, she has heard and she has told him. Of course, she need not ask Mr. Wise to tea now. End of Chapter Six Chapter Seven Part One of Miss Matt This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Jessica Louise Mismap by E. F. Benson Chapter Seven Part One A white frost on three nights running and a terrible blackening of dahlias whose reputation was quite gone by morning would probably have convinced the ladies of tilling that it was time to put summer clothing in camphor and winter clothing in the backyard to get aired even if the Padra had not preached that remarkable sermenance on day. It was so remarkable that Mismap quite forgot to note grammatical lapses and listened entranced. The text was He Made Summer and Winter and after repeating the words very impressively so that there might be no mistake about the origin of the seasons the Padra began to talk about something quite different namely the unhappy divisions which exist in Christian communities. That did not deceive Mismap for a moment. She saw precisely what he was getting at over his oratorical fences. He got at it. Ever since Summertime had been inaugurated a few years before it had been one of the chronic dissensions of tilling. Mismap Diva and the Padra flatly refused to recognize it except when they were going by train or tram when principal must necessarily go to the wall or they would never have succeeded in getting anywhere while Mismap with the halo of martyrdom round her head had once arrived at a Summertime party an hour late in order to bear witness to the truth and in consequence had got only drugs of tea and the last faint strawberry. But the major and captain Puffin used the tram so often that they had fallen into the degrading habit of dislocating their clocks and watches on the first of May and dislocating them again in the autumn when they were forced into uniformity with properly minded people. Irene was flippant on the subject and said that any old time would do for her. The poppets followed convention and Mrs. Puppet in naming the hour for a party to the stalwarts wrote 430 Your 330 The king after all had invited her to be decorated at a particular hour Summertime and what was good enough for the king was good enough for Mrs. Puppet. The sermon was quite uncompromising. There was summer and winter by divine ordinance but there was nothing said about Summertime and wintertime. There was but one time. And even as life only stained the white radiance of eternity as the gifted but alas infidel poet remarked so too did time. But ephemeral as time was noon in the bible clearly meant twelve o'clock and not one o'clock towards even meant towards even and not the middle of a broiling afternoon. The sixth hour similarly was the roman way of saying twelve. Wintertime in fact was God's time and though there was nothing wicked far from it in adopting strange measures yet the simple the childlike clung to the sacred tradition which they had received from their fathers and forefathers at their mother's knee. Then followed along an eloquent passage which recapitulated the opening about unhappy divisions and contained several phrases regarding the lengths to which such divisions might go which were strikingly applicable to dueling. The paration recapitulated the recapitulation in case anyone had missed it and the coda the clothes itself in the full noon of the winter sun was full of joy at the healing of all such unhappy divisions. And now the rain rattling against the windows drowned the docusology. The doctrine was so much to her mind that mismap gave a shilling to the offertory instead of her usual sixpence to be devoted to the organist and choir fund. The Padre and his true had changed the hour of services to suit the heresy of the majority and this for a moment made her hand falter. But the hope after this convincing sermon that next year morning service would be at hour falsely called twelve decided her not to withdraw this handsome contribution. Frosts and dead dahlias and sermons then were together overwhelmingly convincing and when mismap went out on Monday morning to do her shopping she wore a tweed skirt and jacket and round her neck along woolen scarf to mark the end of summer. Mrs. Poppet alone in her disgusting ostentation had seemed to think two days ago that it was cold enough for furs and she presented a truly ridiculous aspect in an enormous sable coat under the weight of which she could hardly stagger and stood rooted to the spot when she stepped out of the roice. Brisk walking in large woolen scarves saved the others from feeling the cold and from being unable to move and this morning the high street was dazzling with the shifting play of bright colors. There was quite a group of scarves at the corner where mismap street debouched into the high street. Irene was there for it was probably too cold for Mr. Hopkins that morning looking quainter than ever in corduroy and mauve stockings with an immense orange scarf bordered with pink. Diva was there wound up in so delicious a combination of rose matter then came bridge blue that mismap remembering the history of the rose matter had to remind herself how many things there were in the world more important than worsted. Evie was there in vivid green with a purple border. The Padre had a knitted magenta waistcoat and Mrs. Poppet that great sable coat which almost prevented movement. They were all talking together in a very animated manner when first mismap came in sight and if on her approach conversation seemed to wither they all wore besides their scarves very broad pleasant smiles. Mismap had a smile too as good as anybody's. Good morning all you dear things she said how lovely you all look just like a bed of delicious flowers such nice colors my poor dollies are all dead. Quaint Irene uttered a horse laugh and swinging her basket went quickly away she often did abrupt things like that. Mismap turned to the Padre Dear Padre what a delicious sermon she said so glad you preached it such a warning against all sorts of divisions The Padre had to compose his face before he responded to these compliments I reached Galad fair lady he replied that my bit discourse was to your mind come we wifey we must be stepping quite suddenly all the group with the exception of mrs. Poppet melted away we wifey gave a loud squeal as if to say something but her husband let her firmly off while diva with rapidly revolving feet sped like an arrow up the center of I street such a lovely morning said Mismap to mrs. Poppet when there was no one else to talk to and everyone looked so pleased and happy and all in such a hurry busiest bees to do their little businesses yes mrs. Poppet began to move quietly away with a deliberate tortoise-like progression necessitated by the fur coat it struck Mismap that she too had intended to take part in the general breaking up of the group but had merely been unable to get under way as fast as the others such a lovely fur coat said Mismap sycophantically such beautiful long fur and what is the news this morning has a little bird been whispering anything nothing said mrs. Poppet very decidedly and having now a sufficient way on to turn she went up the street down which Mismap had just come the latter was thus left all alone with her shopping basket and her scarf with the unerring divination which was the natural fruit of so many years of ceaseless conjecture she instantly suspected the worst all that busy conversation which her appearance had interrupted all those smiles which her presence had seemed but to render broader and more hilarious certainly concerned her they could not still have been talking about that fatal explosion from the cupboard in the garden room because the duel had completely silenced the last echoes of that and she instantly put her finger on the spot somebody had been gossiping and how she hated gossip somebody had given voice to what she had been so studiously careful not to say until that moment when she had seen the rapid breaking up of the group of her friends all radiant with merriment she had longed to be aware that somebody had given voice to it and that everybody under seal of secrecy knew the unique queenliness of her position the overwhelming interesting role that the violent passions of men had cast her for she had not believed in the truth of it herself when that irresistible seizure of coquetry took possession of her she bent over her sweet chrysanthemums but the Padre's respectful reception of it had caused her to hope that everybody else might believe in it the character of the smiles however that wreathe to the faces of her friends did not quite seem to give fruition to that hope there were smiles and smiles respectful smiles sympathetic smiles envious and admiring smiles but there were also smiles of hilarious and mocking incredulity she concluded that she had to deal with the latter variety something thought mismap as she stood quite alone in the high street with mrs. poppet laboring up the hill and diva already a rose matter speck in the distance has got to be done and it only remained to settle what fury with the dear Padre for having hinted precisely what she meant intended and designed that he should hint was perhaps the paramount emotion in her mind fury with everybody else for not respectfully believing what she did not believe herself made an important pendant what am i to do said mismap aloud and had to explain to mr. Hopkins who had all his clothes on that she had not spoken to him then she caught sight again of mrs. poppet's sable coat hardly further off than it had been when first this thunder clap of an intuition deafened her and still reeling from the shock she remembered that it was almost certainly mrs. poppet who was the cause of mr. wise writing her that exquisitely delicate note with regard to thursday it was a herculean task no doubt to plug up all the fountains of talk and tilling which were spouting so merrily at her expense but a beginning must be made before she could arrive at the end a short scurry of nimble steps brought her up to the sables dear mrs. poppet she said if you are walking by my little house would you give me two minutes talk and so stupid of me to forget just now will you come in after dinner on monday for a little rubber the days are closing and now one wants to make the most of the daylight and i think it is time to begin our pleasant little winter evenings this was a bribe and mrs. poppet instantly pocketed it with the effect that two minutes later she was in the garden room and had deposited her sable coat on the sofa quite shook the room with the weight of it said miss map to herself while she arranged plan she stood looking out of the window for a moment writhing with humiliation at having to be suppliant to the member of the british empire she tried to remember mrs. poppet's christian name and was even prepared to use that but this crowning ignominy was saved her as she could not recollect it such an annoying thing has happened she said though the word seemed to blister her lips and you dear mrs. poppet as a woman of the world can advise me what to do the fact is that somehow or other and i can't think how people are saying that the duel last week which was so happily averted had something to do with poor little me so absurd but do you know what gossips we have in our dear little tilling mrs. poppet turned on her a fallen and disappointed face but hadn't it she said why when they were all laughing about it just now i was right then thought miss map and what a tactless woman i'd said i believed it and i told mr. wise miss map cursed herself for her frankness but she could obliterate that again and not lose a rare goodness knew how rare believe her i am in such a difficult position she said i think i ought to let it be understood that there's no truth whatever in such an idea however much truth there may be and to dear mr. wise believe in fact i know he must have for he wrote me oh such a delicate understanding note he at any rate takes no notice of all that is being said and hinted miss map was momentarily conscious that she meant precisely the opposite of this dear mr. wise did take notice most respectful notice of all that was being said and hinted thank goodness but a glance at mrs. poppet's fat and interested face showed her that the verbal discrepancy had gone unnoticed and that the luscious flavor of romance drowned the perception of anything else she drew a handkerchief out and buried her thoughtful eyes in it a moment rubbing them with a stealthy motion which mrs. poppet did not perceive though diva would have my lips are sealed she continued opening them very wide and i can say nothing except that i want this rumor to be contradicted i dare say those who started it thought it was true but true or false i must say nothing i have always led a very quiet life in my little house with my sweet flowers for my companions and if there's one thing more than another that i dislike it is that my private affairs should be made matters of public interest i do no harm to anybody i wish everybody well and nothing nothing will induce me to open my lips upon this subject i will not cry miss map say a word to defend or justify myself what is true will prevail it comes in the bible mrs. poppet was too much interested in what she said to mind where it came from what can i do? she asked contradict dear the rumor that i have had anything to do with the terrible thing which might have happened last week say on my authority that it is so i tremble to think here she trembled very much what might happen if the report reached major benji's ears and he found out who had started it we must have no more duels in tilling i thought i should never survive that morning i will go and tell mr. wise instantly dear said mrs. poppet that would never do true believers were so scarce that it was wicked to think of unsettling their faith poor mr. wise said miss map with a magnanimous smile do not think dear of troubling him with these little trumpery affairs he will not take part in these little tittle-tattles but if you could let dear diva and coin tyrene and sweet eevee and the good podre know that i laugh at all such nonsense but they laugh at it too said mrs. poppet that would have been baffling for anyone who allowed herself to be baffled but that was not miss map's way oh that bitter laughter she said it hurt me to hear it it was envious laughter dear scoffing bitter laughter i heard i cannot bear that the dear things should feel like that tell them that i say how silly they are to believe anything of the sort trust me i'm right about it i wash my hands of such nonsense she made a vivid dumb show of this and after drying them on an imaginary towel let a sunny smile peep out of the eyes she had rubbed all gone she said and we will have a dear little party on wednesday to show we were all friends again and we meet for lunch at dear mr. wise's the next day yes he will get tired of poor little me if he sees me two days running so i shall not ask him i will just try to get two tables together and nobody shall contradict dear diva however many shillings she says she has won i would sooner pay them all myself than have any more of our unhappy divisions you will have talked to them all before wednesday will you not tear as there were only four to talk to mrs. poppet thought that she could manage it and spent a most interesting afternoon for two years now she had tried to unfreeze miss map who when all was said and done was the center of the tilling circle and who if any attempt was made to shove her out towards the circumference always gravitated back again and now on these important errands she was miss maps accredited ambassador and all the terrible business of the opening of the store cupboard and her decoration is mbe was quite forgiven and forgotten there would be so much walking to be done from house to house that it was impossible to wear her sable coat unless she had the roice to take her about the effect of her communications would have surprised anybody who did not know tilling a less subtle society when assured from a first hand authoritative source that a report which it had entirely refused to believe was false would have prided itself on its perspicacity and said that it had laughed at such an idea as soon as ever it heard it as being palpably look at miss map untrue not so tilling the very fact that by the mouth of her ambassador she so uncompromisingly denied it was precisely why tilling began to wonder if there was not something in it and from wondering if there was not something in it surged to the conclusion that there certainly was diva for instance the moment she was told that elizabeth for mrs poppet remembered her christian name perfectly utterly and scornfully denied the truth of the report became intensely thoughtful say there's nothing in it she observed can't understand that at that moment diva's telephone bell rang and she hurried out and in party at elizabeth's on wednesday she said she saw me laughing why ask me mrs poppet was full of her sacred mission to show how little she minds you're laughing she suggested as if it wasn't true then seems like that wants us to think it's not true she was very earnest about it said the ambassador diva got up and tripped over the outlying skirts of mrs poppet's fur coat as she went to ring the bell sorry she said take it off and have a chat tea's coming muffins oh no thanks said mrs poppet i've got so many calls to make what similar calls as diva wait ten minutes tea janet quickly she rolled around the room once or twice all corrugated with perplexity beginning telegraphic sentences and not finishing them says it's not true laughs at notion of and mr weiss believes the pandra believed after all the major little cocksboro captain puffin or the other way around do you think no other explanation you know might have been blood she buried her teeth in a muffin believe there's something in it she summed up she observed her guess had neither tea nor muffin help yourself she said want to worry this out elizabeth absolutely denies it said mrs poppet her eyes were full of oh anything said diva rubbed them or pepper if it was at lunch there's no evidence but her solemn assertion began mrs poppet thinking that she was being a complete failure as an ambassador she was carrying no conviction at all sacrum observed diva handing her a small file haven't got more than enough sugar for myself i expect elizabeth's got plenty well never mind that don't you see if it wasn't true she would try to convince us that it was seemed absurd on the face of it but if she tries to convince us that it isn't true well something in it there was the gist of the matter and mrs poppet proceeding next to the pandra's house found more muffins and incredulity nobody seemed to believe elizabeth's assertion that there was nothing in it avie ran round the room with excited squeaks the pandra nodded his head in confirmation of the opinion which when he first delivered it had been received with mocking and credulity over the crab quaint Irene intent on mr hopkins left me in the absence of the model said good old map better late than never utter incredulity in fact was the ambassador's welcome and all the incredulous were going to elizabeth's party on wednesday mrs poppet had sent the royce home for the last of her calls and staggered up the hill past elizabeth's house oddly enough just as she passed the garden room the window was thrown up cup of tea dear susan said elizabeth she had found an old note of mrs poppet's among the waste paper from the firing of the kitchen oven fully signed just two minutes talk elizabeth she promptly responded the news that nobody intilling believed her left miss matt more than calm on the bright side of calm that is to say she had a few indulgent phrases that tripped readily off her tongue for the dear things who hated to be deprived of their gossip but susan certainly did not receive the impression that this playful magnanimity was attained with an effort elizabeth did not seem really to mind she was very gay then skillfully changing the subject she mourned over her dead dolios end of chapter seven part one recording by jessica louise saint paul minnesota chapter seven part two of miss map this is a librebox recording all librebox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librebox.org recording by jessica louise miss map by e f benson chapter seven part two though tailing with all its perspicacity could not have known it the intuitive reader will certainly have perceived that miss maps party for wednesday night had so to speak further irons in its fire it had originally been a bribe to susan poppet in order to induce her to spread broadcast that that ridiculous rumor whoever had launched it had been promptly denied by the person who most immediately concerned it served a second purpose in showing that miss map was too high above the mire of scandal however interesting to know or care who might happen to be wallowing in it and for this reason she asked everybody who had done so such loftiness of soul had earned her an amazing bonus for it had induced those who sat in the seat of the scoffers before to come hastily off and join the thin but unwavering ranks of the true believers who up till then had consisted only of susan and mr. wise frankly so blessed a conclusion had never occurred to miss map it was one of those unexpected rewards that fall like ripe plums into the lap of the upright by denying a rumor she had got everybody to believe it and when on wednesday morning she went out to get the chocolate cakes which were so useful in allaying the appetites of the guests she encountered no broken conversations and gleeful smiles but side long glances of respectful envy but what telling did not and could not know was this the first of the autumn after dinner bridge parties was destined to look on the famous tea gown of kingfisher blue as designed for mrs. trout no doubt other ladies would have hurried up their new gowns or at least have camouflaged their old ones in honor of the annual inauguration of evening bridge but miss map had no misgivings about being outshone and once again here she felt that luck waited on merit for though when she dressed that evening she found she had not anticipated that artificial light would cast a somewhat pale though not ghastly reflection from the vibrant blue one to her features similar in effect to but not so marked as the light that shines on the faces of those who lean over the burning brandy in raisins of snapdragons this interesting pallor seemed very aptly to bear witness to all that she had gone through she did not look ill she was satisfied as to that she looked gorgeous and a little one the bridge tables were not set out in the garden room which entailed a scurry over damp gravel on a black windy night but in the little square parlor above her dining room where withers in the intervals of admitting her guests was laying out plates of sandwiches and the chocolate cakes reinforced when the interval for refreshments came with hot soup whiskey and siphons and a jug of cup prepared according to an ancestral and economical recipe which miss map had taken a great deal of trouble about a single bottle of white wine with suitable additions of ginger nutmeg herbs and soda water was the mother of a gallon of a drink that seemed a flame with fiery and probably spiritual ingredients guests were very careful how they part took of it so stimulating it seemed miss map was reading a book on gardening upside down she had taken it up rather hurriedly when the puppets arrived and sprang to her feet with a pretty cry at being so unexpectedly but delightfully disturbed susan isabel she said lovely of you to have come i was reading about flowers making plans for next year she saw the four eyes riveted to her dress susan susan looked quite shabby in comparison and isabel did not look anything at all my dear too lovely said mrs poppet slowly miss map looked brightly about as if wondering what was too lovely at last she guessed oh my new frock she said do you like it dear how sweet of you it's just a little nothing that i talked over with that nice miss greele in the high street we put our heads together and invented something quite cheap and simple and here's evie and the dear padre so kind of you to look in four more eyes were riveted on it and ties you out just once padre went on miss map so sweet of you to spare in evening and here's major benji and captain puffin well that's nice this was really tremendous of miss map here she was meeting without embarrassment or awkwardness the two who if the duel had not been averted would have risked their very lives over some dispute concerning her everybody else naturally was rather taken aback for the moment at the situation so deeply died in the dramatic should either of the gladiators have heard that it was the padre who undoubtedly had spread the rumor concerning their hostess mrs poppet was afraid that even his cloth might not protect him but no such deplorable calamity occurred and only four more eyes were riveted to the kingfisher blue upon my word said the major i never saw anything more beautiful than that gown miss elizabeth straight from paris a Paris in every line of it oh major benji said elizabeth you're just making fun of me and my simple little frock i'm getting quite shy just a bit of old stuff that i had but so nice of you to like it i wonder where diva is we shall have to scold her for being late she shan't be scolded diva don't the endearing word froze on miss maps lips as she turned deadly white in the doorway in equal fury and dismay stood diva dressed in precisely the same staggeringly lovely costume as her hostess had diva and miss grill put their heads together too had diva got a bit of old stuff miss map pulled herself together first and moistened her dry lips so sweet of you to look in dear she said shall we cut naturally the malice of cards decreed that miss map and diva should sit next to each other as adversaries at the same table and the combined effect of two lots of kingfisher blue was blinding complete silence on every subject connected however remotely with dress was of course the only line for correct diplomacy to pursue but then major benji was not diplomatic only gallant never saw such stunning gowns a padre he said dear me they are very much alike too aren't they pair of exquisite sisters it would be hard to say which of the two found this speech the more provocative of rage for while diva was four years younger than miss map miss map was four inches taller than diva she cut the cards to her sister with a hand that trembled so much that she had to do it again and diva could scarcely deal mr. wise frankly confessed the next day when at one o'clock elizabeth found herself the first arrival at his house they'd been very self-indulgent i've given myself a treat dear miss map he said i've asked three entrancing ladies to share my humble meal with me and i provided is it not shocking of me nobody else to meet them you're pardoned dear lady for my greediness now this was admirably done elizabeth knew very well why two out of the three men in tilling had not been asked very gratifying the reason was and with the true refinement of which mr. wise was so amply possessed here he was taking all the blame on himself and putting it so prettily she bestowed her widest smile on him oh mr. wise she said we shall all quarrel over you not until miss map had spoken did she perceive how subtle her words were they seemed to bracket herself and mr. wise together all the men two out of the three at any rate had been quarreling over her and now there seemed a very fair prospect of three of the women quarreling over mr. wise without being in the least effeminate mr. wise this morning looked rather like a modern troubadour he had a velveteen coat on a soft fluffy mushy tie which looked as if made of surely poppies very neat nickerbunkers brown stockings with blobs like the fruit of plain trees dependent from elaborate tops and shoes with a cascade of leather frilling covering the laces he might almost equally well be about to play golf over putting holes in the lawn as the guitar he made a gesture of polished polite descent not contradicting yet hardly accepting this tribute remitting it perhaps just as the king when he enters the city of london touches the sword of the lord mayor and tells him to keep it so pleasant to be entailing again he said we shall have a cozy busy winter i hope you i know miss map are always busy the day is never long enough for me said elizabeth enthusiastically what with my household duties in the morning in my garden and our pleasant little gatherings it is always bedtime too soon i want to read a great deal this winter too diva at the site of whom elizabeth had to make a strong effort of self-control here came in together with mrs poppet and the party was complete elizabeth would have been willing to bet that in spite of the warmness of the morning susan would have on her sable coat and now technically she would have lost she more than one morally for mr wises repeated speeches about his greediness were hardly out of his mouth when she discovered that she had left her handkerchief in the pocket of her sable coat which she had put over the back of a conspicuous chair in the hall figus however came in at the moment to say that lunch was ready and she delayed them all very much by a long ineffectual search for it during which figus with much visible effort held up the sable coat so that it was displayed to the utmost advantage and then only fancy susan discovered that it was in her sable muff all the time all three ladies were on tenterhooks of anxiety as to who was to be placed on mr wises right who on his left and who would be given only the place between two other women but his tact was equal to anything mismap he said will you honor me by taking the head of my table and be hostess for me only i must have that vase of flowers removed figus i can look at my flowers when mismap is not here now what have we got for breakfast lunch i should say the macaroni which mr wises had brought back with him from naples naturally led on to italian subjects and the general skepticism about the contessa de faragione had a staggering blow dealt it my sister began mr wises and by a swift sucking motion diva drew into her mouth several serpents of dependent macaroni in order to be able to listen better without this agitating distraction my sister i hope will come to england this winter and spend several weeks with me sensation and the count ask diva having swallowed the serpents i fear not chaco francesco you know is a great stay at home amelia is looking forward very much to seeing tilling i shall insist on her making a long stay here before she visits our relations at which church elizabeth found herself reserving judgment she would believe in the contessa faragione no one more firmly when she saw her and had reasonable proofs of her identity delightful she said abandoning with regret the fruitless pursuit with a fork of the few last serpents that writhed on her plate what an addition to our society we shall all do our best to spoil her mr wises when do you expect her early in december you must be very kind to her dear ladies she's an insatiable bridge player she's heard much of the great players she will meet here that decided mrs poppet she would join the correspondence class conducted by little slam in cozy corner little slam for the sum of two guineas payable in advance engaged to make first class players of anyone with normal intelligence diva's mind flew off to the subject of dress and the thought of the awful tragedy concerning the teagound of king fisher blue combined with the undive salad gave a rye twist to her mouth for a moment i as you know continued mr wises and no hand at bridge oh mr wises you play beautifully interpolated elizabeth too flattering of you miss map but amilia and chaco do not agree with you i am never allowed to play when i'm at the villa farallione unless a table cannot be made up without me but i shall look forward to seeing many well-contested games the quails and the figs had come from capri and miss map greedily devouring each in turn was so much incensed by the information that she had elicited about them that though she joined in the general love the same she was tempted to inquire whether the ice had not been brought from the south pole by some Antarctic expedition her mind was not like poor divas taken up with obstinate questionings about the king fisher blue tea gown for she'd already determined the what she was going to do about it naturally it was impossible to contemplate fresh encounters like that of last night but another gown creams and lake the color of missus trout's toilet for the second evening of the duke of Hampshire's visit as vogue informed her had completely annihilated newport with its splendor she'd already consulted miss greal about it who said that if the king fisher blue was bleached first the dye of kernels and lake would be brilliant and pure the thought of that and the fact that miss greal's lips were so professionally sealed made her able to take divas arm as they strolled about the garden afterwards the way in which both diva and susan had made up to mr. wise during lunch was really very shocking though it did not surprise miss map but she supposed their heads had been turned by the prospect of playing bridge with a countess luckily she expected nothing of either of them so their conduct was in no way a blow or a disappointment to her this companionship with diva was rather prolonged for the adhesive susan staggering about in her sables clung close to their host and simulated a clumsy interest in chrysanthemums and whatever the other two did maneuvered herself into a strong position between them and mr. wise from which operating on interior lines she could cut off either assailant more depressing yet and throwing a sad new light on his character mr. wise seemed to appreciate rather than resent the appropriation of himself and instead of making a sortie through the beleaguering sables would beg diva and elizabeth who were so fond of fuchsia's and knew about them so well to put their heads together over an afflicted bed of these flowers and quite another part of the garden and tell him what was the best treatment for their anemic condition pleasant and proper though it was to each of them that mr. wise should pay so little attention to the other it was bitter as the undive salad to both that he should tolerate if not enjoy the companionship which the forwardness of susan forced on him and while they absolutely stared at the fuchsia's the fire kindled and elizabeth spake with her tongue how very plain poor susan looks today she said such a color though to be sure i attribute that more to what she ate and drank than to anything else crimson oh these poor fuchsia's i think i should throw them away the common antagonism diva felt had drawn her and elizabeth into the most cordial of understandings for the moment she felt nothing but enthusiastic sympathy with elizabeth in spite of her kingfisher blue gown what on earth in parenthesis was she to do with hers she could not give it to janet it was impossible to contemplate the idea of janet walking about the high street in a tea gown of kingfisher blue just in order to thwart elizabeth mr weiss seems taken with her said diva how can he rather a snob mbe she's always popping in here saw her yesterday going around the corner of the street what time dear asked elizabeth nosing the scent middle of the morning and i saw her in the afternoon said elizabeth that great lumbering rules roice went tacking and skittering around the corner below my garden room was she in it asked diva this appeared rather a slur on elizabeth's reliability and observation no darling she was sitting on the top she said taking the edge out the sarcasm in case diva had not intended to be critical by a little laugh diva drew the conclusion that elizabeth had actually seen her inside think it's serious she said think he'll marry her the idea of course repellent and odious as it was had occurred to elizabeth so she instantly denied it oh you busy little matchmaker see she said brightly such an idea never entered my head you shouldn't make such fun of dear susan come dear i can't look at fuchsias anymore i must be getting home and must say goodbye a reservoir rather to mr wise if susan will allow me to get a word in edgeways susan seemed delighted to let this map get this particular word in edgewise and after a little speech from mr wise in which he said that he would not dream of allowing them to go yet and immediately afterwards shook hands warmly with both of them hoping that the reservoir would be a very small one the two were forced to leave the artful susan in possession of the field it all looked rather black miss maps vivid imagination altogether failed to picture what tilling would be like if susan succeeded in becoming mrs wise and the sister-in-law of a countess and she sat down in her garden room and closed her eyes for a moment in order to concentrate her power of figuring the situation what dreadful people these climbers were how swiftly they swarmed up the social ladder with their rolls roices and their red current fool and their sables a few weeks ago she herself had never asked susan into her house while the very first time she came she unleashed the slewises of the store cupboard and now owing to the necessity of getting her aid and stopping that mischievous rumor which she herself had been so careful to set on foot regarding the cause of the duel miss map had been positively obliged to flatter and to susan her and if divas awful surmise proved to be well founded susan would be in position to patronize them all and talk about counts and countesses with the same air of unconcern as mr wise she would be bitten to the villa farallione she would play bridge with chaco and emelia and she would visit the wisest of witch-church what was to be done she might head another movement to put mr wise in his proper place this if successful would have the agreeable result of pulling down susan a rung or two should she carry out her design but the failure of the last attempt and mr wise's eminence did not argue well for any further maneuver of this kind or should she poison mr wise's mind with regard to susan or was she herself costlessly agitated or curiosity rushed like a devastating tornado across miss maps mind rooting up all other growths buffeting her with the necessity of knowing what the two whom she had been forced to leave in the garden were doing now and snatching up her opera glasses she glided upstairs and let herself out through the trap door on the roof she did not remember if it was possible to see mr wise's garden or any part of it from that watch tower but there was a chance not a glimpse of it was visible it lay quite hidden behind the red brick wall which bounded it and not a chrysanthemum or a fuchsia could she see but her blood froze as without putting the glasses down she ran her eye over such part of the house while as rose above the obstruction in his drawing room window on the first floor were seated two figures susan had taken her sables off it was as if she intended remaining there forever or at least for tea end of chapter seven recording by jessica louise st paul minnesota