And Troy, greatly bewildered, thought that she could.

While she was still digesting this queer little scene, the door at the back of the stalls opened and Cedric peered round it.

‘So humble and timid,’ he lisped. ‘Just a mouse-like squeak to tell you luncheon is almost on the table. Panty!’ he cried shrilly, catching sight of his cousin. ‘You gross child! Back to the West Wing, miss! How dare you muscle your hideous way in here?’

Panty grinned savagely at him. ‘Hallo, Sissy,’ she said.

‘Wait,’ said Cedric, ‘just wait till the Old Person catches you. What he won’t do to you!’

‘Why?’ Panty demanded.

‘Why! You ask me why. Infamy! With the grease-paint fresh on your fingers.’

Both Panty and Troy gaped at this. Panty glanced at her hand. ‘That’s her paint,’ she said, jerking her head at Troy. ‘That’s not grease-paint.’

‘Do you deny,’ Cedric pursued, shaking his finger at her, ‘do you deny, you toxic child, that you went into your grandfather’s dressing-room while he was sitting for Mrs Alleyn, and scrawled some pothouse insult in lake-liner on his looking-glass? Do you deny, moreover, that you painted a red moustache on the cat, Carabbas?’

With an air of bewilderment that Troy could have sworn was genuine, Panty repeated her former statement. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t.’

‘Tell that,’ said Cedric with relish, ‘to your grandpapa and see if he believes you.’

‘Noddy likes me,’ said Panty, rallying. ‘He likes me best in the family. He thinks you’re awful. He said you’re a simpering popinjay.’

‘See here,’ said Troy hastily. ‘Let’s get this straight. You say Panty’s written something in grease-paint on Sir Henry’s looking-glass. What’s she supposed to have written?’

Cedric coughed. ‘Dearest Mrs Alleyn, we mustn’t allow you for a second to be disturbed…’

‘I’m not disturbed,’ said Troy. ‘What was written on the glass?’

‘My mama would have wiped it off. She was in his room tidying, and saw it. She hunted madly for a rag but the Old Person, at that moment, walked in and saw it. He’s roaring about the house like a major prophet.’

‘But what was it, for pity’s sake?’

‘ “Grandfather’s a bloody old fool,” ’ said Cedric. Panty giggled. ‘There!’ said Cedric. ‘You see? Obviously she wrote it. Obviously she made up the cat.’

‘I didn’t. I didn’t.’ And with one of those emotional volte-faces by which children bewilder us, Panty wrinkled up her face, kicked Cedric suddenly but half-heartedly on the shin, and burst into a storm of tears.

‘You odious child!’ he ejaculated, skipping out of her way.

Panty flung herself on her face, screamed industriously and beat the floor with her fists. ‘You all hate me,’ she sobbed. ‘Wicked beasts! I wish I was dead.’

‘Oh, la,’ said Cedric, ‘how tedious! Now, she’ll have a fit or something.’