A diversion was here created by a subdued rattling at the kitchen door which was latched on the sitting room side so that it could not be opened from the kitchen, and Aunt Maxine was observed to be much amused about something, jerking her thumb at the kitchen door, laughing behind her hand, pointing, and drawing the attention of the bewildered company to what was going on.

Uncle Preston was missing.

Sophia saw immediately what had happened, and hastened to release him. He came out, trying not to look cross and self-conscious, while everyone at once burst into a roar of conversation and Francis rushed upstairs to laugh out of his bedroom window.

Uncle Preston had been to wash his prawny fingers in the bathroom, which could only be reached through the kitchen and Aunt Maxine had chosen thus delicately to draw attention, by locking the kitchen door, to his absence and his errand.

But when this incident had been relished by all, languor again descended upon the company; and it was only a quarter past five.

Suddenly Sophia pulled herself together. This just would not do.

‘Let’s play “Truth”, she announced, more as a command than as a suggestion. ‘It’s very easy, and great fun. Francis, get some pencils and paper.’

‘Oh dear, is it one of those brainy games?’

‘Do we have to draw? I’m afraid I can’t draw, dear.’

‘I hope it is not a very complicated game; it always takes me some time to master the rules, and by the time I know them well enough to enjoy the game, it is time to stop playing – heh! heh! heh!’

‘Haven’t you any cards? (What is ’ome without a joker? as they say.) We might play bridge – Grace plays, don’t you? And Preston – what about Angela?’

‘No, we’ll play Truth. It isn’t at all complicated and you won’t have to draw, Auntie Loo. It’s quite simple. Francis, you tell them.’

‘Another name for it is the Dodo Game,’ began Francis.

‘What a weird name! Why is it called that?’ interrupted Angela.

‘Oh, I’m not sure – I believe some woman in a book called Dodo used to play it – never mind that now. Well, I give each of you a piece of paper. It’s got Virtues and Vices written on it – Beauty, Truthfulness, Tact, Greed, Tidiness and things like that – and the highest mark is Ten. We each have our names written at the top, but of course we don’t mark our own papers, and all the marking is done anonymously, though you can confess what marks you gave if you like when the papers are read out afterwards. Then the slips are passed round and each person puts a mark against the Virtue or Vice for someone else. For instance, Aunt Maxine, if Auntie Loo deserved eight for Greed in your opinion, you would put an eight against Greed on her paper.’

‘But that would be rather a high mark, dear,’ protested Auntie Loo, mildly, ‘and I am not really greedy. At least, I try not to be. But there! it is only a game, and one must not take it seriously, must one? Well, it sounds most amusing. I think I understand the rules. Shall we begin?’