Alfred withdrew. Mr Period, after a fidgety interval and many glances at Mr Cartell, said: ‘I’m very sorry, Hal, but I’m afraid your Pixie has created a parochial crise.’

Mr Cartell said: ‘Oh, dear. What?’

‘At the moment she, with some half dozen other – ah – boon companions, is rioting in the vicar’s seed beds. There is a Mother’s Union luncheon in progress, but none of them has succeeded in catching her. It couldn’t be more awkward.’

Nicola had an uproarious vision of mothers thundering fruitlessly among rectorial flower-beds. Miss Cartell broke into one of her formidable gusts of laughter.

‘You always were hopeless with dogs, Boysie,’ she shouted. ‘Why you keep that ghastly bitch!’

‘She’s extremely well bred, Connie. I’ve been advised to enter her for the parish dog show.’

‘My God, who by? The rector?’ Miss Cartell asked with a bellow of laughter.

‘I have been advised,’ Mr Cartell repeated stuffily.

‘We’ll have to have a freak class.’

‘Are you entering your Pekinese?’

‘They’re very keen I should, so I might as well, I suppose. Hardly fair to the others but she’d be a draw, of course.’

‘For people that like lap-dogs, no doubt.’

Mr Period intervened: ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to do something about it, Hal,’ he said. ‘Nobody else can control her.’

‘Alfred can.’

‘Alfred is otherwise engaged.’

‘She’s on heat, of course.’

‘Really, Connie!’

Mr Cartell, pink in the face, rose disconsolately but at that moment there appeared in the garden, a dishevelled clergyman dragging the over-excited Pixie by her collar. They were watched sardonically by a group of workmen.

Mr Cartell hurried from the room and reappeared beyond the windows with Alfred.

‘It’s too much,’ Mr Period said. ‘Forgive me!’ He too, left the room and joined the group in the garden.

Leonard and Moppett, making extremely uninhibited conversation, went to the window and stood there, clinging to each other in an ecstasy of enjoyment. They were observed by Mr Period and Mr Cartell. There followed a brief scene in which the rector, his Christian forbearance clearly exercised to its limit, received the apologies of both gentlemen, patted Mr Period, but not Mr Cartell, on the shoulder and took his leave. Alfred lugged Pixie, who squatted back on her haunches in protest, out of sight and the two gentlemen returned very evidently in high dudgeon with each other. Leonard and Moppett made little or no attempt to control their amusement.

‘Well,’ Mr Period said with desperate savoir-faire, ‘what were we talking about?’

Moppett spluttered noisily. Connie Cartell said: ‘You’ll have to get rid of that mongrel, you know, Hal.’ Her brother glared at her. ‘You can’t,’ Connie added, ‘make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.’

‘I entirely agree,’ Mr Cartell said, very nastily indeed, ‘and have often said as much, I believe, to you.’

There was quite a dreadful silence, broken at last by Mr Period.