He took it from her and she knelt on the chair, exploring feverishly. Dikon, whose orders had been to give Sarah Snappe carte blanche, saw that she had taken him at his word. The shell-coloured satin was dull and heavy and the lace delicately rich. There seemed to be a complete set of garments. Barbara folded them back, lifted an extraordinarily pert and scanty object, turned crimson in the face and hurriedly replaced it. Her mother stepped between her and Gaunt. ‘Wouldn’t it be best if you took your parcel indoors, dear?’ she said with poise. Barbara blundered through the door with her box and, to her mother’s evident dismay, Gaunt followed, holding the dress. A curious scene was enacted in the dining-room. Barbara hesitated between rapture and embarrassment, as Gaunt actually began to inspect the contents of the box while Mrs Claire attempted to catch his attention with a distracted résumé of the distant Wynne’s dual office of aunt and godmother, Dikon looked on, and Simon read the morning paper. The smaller boxes were found to contain shoes and stockings. ‘Bless my soul,’ said Gaunt lightly. ‘It’s a trousseau.’

Colonel Claire appeared briefly in the doorway. ‘It must be James,’ he said, and walked away again, quickly.

‘Uncle James!’ cried Barbara. ‘Mother, could it be Uncle James?’

‘Perhaps Wynne wrote to James,’ began her mother, and Simon said from behind his paper: ‘She doesn’t know him.’

‘She knows of him,’ said Mrs Claire gravely.

‘You’ve got that telegram in your hand, Mum,’ said Simon. ‘Why don’t you read it? It might have something to do with Barbie’s clothes.’

They all stared at her while she read the telegram. Her expression suggested astonishment, followed by the liveliest consternation. ‘Oh, no,’ she cried out at last. ‘We can’t have another. Oh dear!’

‘What’s up?’ asked Simon.

‘It’s from a Mr Septimus Falls. He says he’s got lumbago and is coming for a fortnight. What am I to do?’

‘Put him off.’

‘I can’t. There’s no address. It just says “Kindly reserve single room Friday and arrange treatment lumbago staying fortnight Septimus Falls.” Friday. Friday!’ wailed Mrs Claire. ‘What are we to do? That’s today.’

III

Mr Septimus Falls arrived by train and taxi at 4.30, within a few minutes of Dr Ackrington, who picked up his own car in Harpoon. By some Herculean effort the Claires had made ready for Mr Falls. Simon moved into his cabin, Barbara moved into Simon’s room, Barbara’s room was made ready for Mr Falls. He turned out to be a middle-aged Englishman, tall but bent forward at a wooden angle and leaning heavily on his stick. He was good-looking, wellmannered, and inclined to be bookishly facetious.