“Exactly,” said my brother-in-law.  “There’s no other alternative.  It’s one of the laws of Nature.  I well remember dreaming that I was a disused columbarium which had been converted into a brewery and was used as a greenhouse.  I was full of vats and memorial tablets and creeping geraniums.  Just as they were going to pull me down to make room for a cinema, Daphne woke me up to say there was a bat in the room.  I replied suitably, but, before turning over to resume my slumbers, I tried to recapture my dream.  My efforts were vain.  It was gone for ever.”

“Then how d’you know what it was about?” said Jill.

“I don’t,” said Berry.  “What I have told you is pure surmise.  And now will you pass me the toast, or shall I come and get it?”

Choking with indignation, Jill stretched out a rosy hand in the direction of the toastrack....  Suddenly the light of mischief leapt into her grey eyes, and she called Nobby.  In a flash the Sealyham—­never so vigilant as at meal-time—­was by her side.  Cheerfully she gave him the last piece of toast.  Then she turned to Berry with a seraphic smile.

“I’m afraid there’s none left,” he said.

* * * * *

Before we had finished lunch, the rain had ceased, and by the time we were under weigh, en route for Broken Ash, the afternoon sun was turning a wet world into a sweet-smelling jewel.  Diamonds dripped from her foliage, emerald plumes glistened on every bank, silver lay spilt upon her soft brown roads.  No scent-bag was ever stuffed with such rare spicery.  Out of the dewy soil welled up the fresh clean breath of magic spikenard, very precious.

Punctually at half-past four we swept up the avenue of poplars that led to our cousins’ house.

The visit had been arranged by Daphne upon the telephone, and Vandy and his two sisters were ready and waiting....

The reunion was not cordial.  Ease and Familiarity were not among the guests.  But it was eminently correct.  The most exacting Master of Ceremonies, the most severe authority upon Etiquette, would have been satisfied.  We were extraordinarily polite.  We made engaging conversation, we begged one another’s pardon, we enjoyed one another’s jokes.  The dispensation and acceptance of hospitality did the respective forces infinite credit.

After tea we were taken to see the pictures.  Vandy, as showman, naturally escorted Adele.  The rest of us, decently grouped about his sisters, followed like a party of sightseers in the wake of a verger.

To do our host justice, he knew his own fathers.  For what it was worth, the history of the Pleydell family lay at his fingers’ ends.  Men, manners and exploits—­he knew them all.  Indeed, years ago he had collected his knowledge and had it published in the form of a book.  We had a copy somewhere.

We were half-way along the gallery, and our cousin was in full blast, when Adele, to whom he was introducing the portraits with triumphant unction, started forward with a low cry.