‘Yes. She’s agreed not to sit on the ledge.’

‘How did you do it, you clever girl?’

‘I told her I thought it would be unbecoming and that the children would giggle and the gentlemen look at her legs.’

‘Do you suppose she’ll cut up rough at any stage?’

‘I’ve no idea. Listen.’

‘What?’

‘Wasn’t that thunder?’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised. Look, there’s Coombe coming in now. Who’s that with him, I wonder. The tall chap.’

‘Jolly good-looking,’ said Jenny.

‘Jolly good tailor, anyway.’

‘P’raps it’s one of Miss Pride’s smart chums. She’s got masses, it appears, nearly all diplomats of the first water, she told me.’

‘There’s the band. It must have been the big drum you heard, not thunder.’

‘It was thunder,’ said Jenny.

The band debouched from the village towards the jetty. It was a small combination entirely dominated by the drum. Behind it walked Mr Nankivell in full regalia, supported by his Council. They embarked in the large motor launch, manned by Trehern, who was got up as a sort of wherryman. The band filled a small fleet of attendant dinghies and continued to play with determination if a trifle wildly throughout the short passage. Miss Cost could be seen darting up and down the length of her procession, taking photographs.

A union of the two elements was achieved and soon they ascended the hill. The children sang. The band attempted a diminuendo.

‘Through the night of doubt and sorrow.’

‘Now, why that!’ the Rector exclaimed. ‘You see? No, Dulcie, it’s too much!’

‘Look, dear. Do look. There she is.’

Miss Emily had approached by the path from the hotel. She inserted her disc, entered the enclosure and advanced to her seat just before the procession arrived. Major Barrimore stood up to welcome her, looking furious.

A double gate, normally locked and only used to admit stretcher cases, was now opened. The procession marched in and disposed itself in a predestined order.

It is doubtful if any of the official party paid much attention to the Mayor’s inaugural address. They were all too busy furtively keeping an eye on Miss Emily. She sat bolt upright with her hands clasped over the handle of her furled umbrella and she stared at Mr Nankivell.

‘…and so, Ladies and Gentlemen, I have great pleasure in declaring the First – the First Festival of Portcarrow Island Springs, O-PEN.’