dear lady," he said. "By Jove! what a picture of health and freshness you are!"
Miss Mapp cast one glance at her basket to see that the paper quite concealed that article of clothing which the perfidious laundry had found. (Probably the laundry knew where it was all the time, and — in a figurative sense, of course — was "trying it on".)
"Early to bed and early to rise, Major," she said. "I saw my sweet flowers open their eyes this morning! Such a beautiful dew!"
"Well, my diaries kept me up late last night," he said. "When all you fascinating ladies have withdrawn is the only time at which I can bring myself to sit down to them."
"Let me recommend six to eight in the morning, Major," said Miss Mapp earnestly. "Such freshness of brain then."
That seemed to be a cul-de-sac in the way of leading up to the important subject, and the Major tried another turning.
"Good, well-fought game of bridge we had yesterday," he said. "Just met Mrs Plaistow; she stopped on for a chat after we had gone."
"Dear Diva; she loves a good gossip," said Miss Mapp effusively. "Such an interest she has in other people's affairs. So human and sympathetic. I'm sure our dear hostess told her all about her adventures at the Palace."
There was only seven minutes left before the tram started, and though this was not a perfect opening, it would have to do. Besides, the Major saw Mrs Plaistow coming energetically along the High Street with whirling feet.
"Yes, and we haven't finished with — ha — royalty yet," he said, getting the odious word out with difficulty. "The Prince of Wales will be passing through the town on Saturday, on his way to Ardingly Park, where he is spending the Sunday."
Miss Mapp was not betrayed into the smallest expression of interest.
"That will be nice for him," she said. "He will catch a glimpse of our beautiful Tilling."
"So he will! Well, I'm off for my game of golf. Perhaps the Navy will be a bit more efficient today."
"I'm sure you will both play perfectly!" said Miss Mapp.
Diva had "popped" into the grocer's. She always popped everywhere just now; she popped across to see a friend, and she popped home again; she popped into church on Sunday, and occasionally popped up to town, and Miss Mapp was beginning to feel that somebody ought to let her know, directly or by insinuation, that she popped too much. So, thinking that an opportunity might present itself now, Miss Mapp read the news-board outside the stationer's till Diva popped out of the grocer's again. The headlines of news, even the largest of them, hardly reached her brain, because it was entirely absorbed in another subject. Of course, the first thing was to find out by what train . . .
Diva trundled swiftly across the street
"Good-morning, Elizabeth," she said. "You left the party too early yesterday. Missed a lot. How the King smiled! How the Queen said 'So pleased'."
"Our dear hostess would like that," said Miss Mapp pensively. "She would be so pleased, too. She and the Queen would both be pleased. Quite a pair of them."
"By the way, on Saturday next —" began Diva.
"I know, dear," said Miss Mapp. "Major Flint told me. It seemed quite to interest him. Now I must pop into the stationer's —"
Diva was really very obtuse.
"I'm popping in there, too," she said. "Want a timetable of the trains."
Wild horses would not have dragged from Miss Mapp that this was precisely what she wanted.
"I only wanted a little ruled paper," she said. "Why, here's dear Evie popping out just as we pop in! Good-morning, sweet Evie. Lovely day again."
Mrs Bartlett thrust something into her basket which very much resembled a railway timetable. She spoke in a low, quick voice, as if afraid of being overheard, and was otherwise rather like a mouse. When she was excited she squeaked.
"So good for the harvest," she said. "Such an important thing to have a good harvest. I hope next Saturday will be fine; it would be a pity if he had a wet day. We were wondering, Kenneth and I, what would be the proper thing to do, if he came over for service — oh, here is Kenneth!"
She stopped abruptly, as if afraid that she had betrayed too much interest in next Saturday and Sunday. Kenneth would manage it much better.
"Ha! lady fair," he exclaimed. "Having a bit crack with wee wifey? Any news this bright morning?"
"No, dear Padre," said Miss Mapp, showing her gums. "At least, I've heard nothing of any interest. I can only give you the news of my garden. Such lovely new roses in bloom today, bless them!"
Mrs Plaistow had popped into the stationer's, so this perjury was undetected.
The Padre was noted for his diplomacy. Just now he wanted to convey the impression that nothing which could happen next Saturday or Sunday could be of the smallest interest to him; whereas he had spent an almost sleepless night in wondering whether it would, in certain circumstances, be proper to make a bow at the beginning of his sermon and another at the end; whether he ought to meet the visitor at the west door; whether the mayor ought to be told, and whether there ought to be special psalms . . .
"Well, lady fair," he said. "Gossip will have it that ye Prince of Wales is staying at Ardingly for the Sunday; indeed, he will, I suppose, pass through Tilling on Saturday afternoon —"
Miss Mapp put her forefinger to her forehead, as if trying to recollect something.
"Yes, now somebody did tell me that," she said. "Major Flint, I believe. But when you asked for news I thought you meant something that really interested me. Yes, Padre?"
"Aweel, if he comes to service on Sunday — ?"
"Dear Padre, I'm sure he'll hear a very good sermon. Oh, I see what you mean! Whether you ought to have any special hymn? Don't ask poor little me! Mrs Poppit, I'm sure, would tell you. She knows all about courts and etiquette."
Diva popped out of the stationer's at this moment.
"Sold out," she announced. "Everybody wanted timetables this morning. Evie got the last. Have to go to the station."
"I'll walk with you, Diva, dear," said Miss Mapp. "There's a parcel that — Goodbye, dear Evie, au reservoir."
She kissed her hand to Mrs Bartlett, leaving a smile behind it, as it fluttered away from her face, for the Padre.
Miss Mapp was so impenetrably wrapped in thought as she worked among her sweet flowers that afternoon, that she merely stared at a "love-in-a-mist", which she had absently rooted up instead of a piece of groundsel, without any bleeding of the heart for one of her sweet flowers. There were two trains by which He might arrive — one at quarter-past four, which would get him to Ardingly for tea, the other at quarter-to seven. She was quite determined to see him, but more inflexible than that resolve was the Euclidean postulate that no one in Tilling should think that she had taken any deliberate step to do so. For the present she had disarmed suspicion by the blankness of her indifference as to what might happen on Saturday or Sunday; but she herself strongly suspected that everybody else, in spite of the public attitude of Tilling to such subjects, was determined to see him too. How to see
