‘I’m glad you’ve come, Tilda,’ Joseph told her, as she gingerly mounted the rickety steps. ‘I do so want this party to go well.’

‘You’re the World’s Uncle, Joe,’ said Mathilda. ‘For God’s sake, hang on to these steps! They feel most unsafe to me. Why did you want this family reunion?’

‘Ah, you’ll laugh at me if I tell you!’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I think, if you hang your end just above that picture it would just reach to the chandelier. Then we could have another chain over to that corner.’

‘Just as you say, Santa Claus. But why the reunion?’

‘Well, my dear, isn’t it the season of goodwill, and isn’t it all working out just as one hoped it would?’

‘Depends what you hoped,’ said Mathilda, pressing a drawing-pin into the wall. ‘If you ask me, there’ll be murder done before we’re through. Nat’s patience will never stand much of little Val.’

‘Bosh, Tilda!’ said Joseph roundly. ‘Bosh and nonsense! There’s no harm in the child, and I’m sure she’s pretty enough to eat!’

Mathilda descended the steps. ‘I don’t think that Nat prefers blondes,’ she said.

‘Never mind! It doesn’t matter what he thinks of poor little Val, after all. The main thing is that he shouldn’t carry on a silly quarrel with old Stephen.’

‘If I’m to fix this end to the chandelier, move the steps over, Joe. Why shouldn’t he quarrel with Stephen, if he wants to?’

‘Because he’s really very fond of him, because quarrelling in families is always a pity. Besides—’ Joseph stopped, and began to move the steps.

‘Besides what?’

‘Well, Tilda, Stephen can’t afford to quarrel with Nat, the silly fellow!’

‘You should worry!’ said Mathilda. ‘You aren’t going to tell me that Nat has at last brought himself to make a will? Is Stephen the heir?’

‘You want to know too much,’ said Joseph, giving her a playful smack.

‘Sure I do! You’re very mysterious, aren’t you?’

‘No, no, upon my word I’m not! I only feel it would be very foolish of Stephen to go on being on bad terms with Nat. Shall we hang this big paper-bell under the chandelier, or do you think a bunch of mistletoe would be better?’

‘If you really want my opinion, Joe, I think they look equally lousy.’

‘Naughty girl! Such language!’ Joseph said. ‘You young people don’t appreciate Christmas as my generation did. Doesn’t it mean anything to you?’

‘It will, by the time we’re through,’ replied Mathilda, once more ascending the steps.

Two

Paula Herriard did not arrive at the Manor until after seven, when everyone else was changing for dinner. Her appearance on the scene was advertised, even to those in remote bedrooms, by the unusual amount of commotion heard downstairs. Paula’s entrances always commanded attention. It was not that she deliberately staged them: merely, her personality was rather overpowering, her movements as impetuous as her vivid little face. In fact, Mathilda said with gentle malice, she seemed to have been born with the hall-marks of a great emotional actress.