Then she had allowed the lights to be turned up again, and there was a few minutes’ pause to enable them to conquer the poignancy of emotion aroused by that exquisite rendering of the ‘Moonlight’ Sonata, to disinfect it so to speak with cigarettes, or drown it, as Major Benjy did, in rapid whiskies and sodas, and when they felt braver the po-di-mu began again, with a duet, between her and Georgie, of innumerable movements by Mozart, who must indeed have been a most prolific composer if he wrote all that. Diva fell quietly asleep, and presently there were indications that she would soon be noisily asleep. Miss Mapp hoped that she would begin to snore properly, for that would be a good set-down for Lucia, but Major Benjy poked her stealthily on the knee to rouse her. Mr Wyse began to stifle yawns, though he sat as upright as ever, with his eyes fixed rather glassily on the ceiling, and ejaculated ‘Charming’ at the end of every movement. When it was all over there were some faintly murmured requests that Lucia would play to them again, and without any further pressing, she sat down. Her obtuseness was really astounding.

‘How you all work me!’ she said. ‘A fugue by Bach then, if you insist on it, and if Georgie will promise not to scold me if I break down.’

Luckily amid suppressed sighs of relief, she did break down, and though she was still perfectly willing to try again, there was a general chorus of unwillingness to take advantage of her great good nature, and after a wretched supper, consisting largely of tomato-salad, they trooped out into the rain, cheered by the promise of another musical evening next week when she would have that beautiful fugue by heart.

It was not the next week but the same week that they had all been bidden to a further evening of harmony, and symptoms of revolt, skilfully fomented by Miss Mapp, were observable. She had just received her note of invitation one morning, when Diva trundled in to Wasters.

‘Another po-di-mu already,’ said she sarcastically. ‘What are you –’

‘Isn’t it unfortunate?’ interrupted Elizabeth, ‘for I hope, dear Diva, you have not forgotten that you promised to come in that very night – Thursday, isn’t it – and play piquet with me.’

Diva returned Elizabeth’s elaborate wink. ‘So I did,’ she said. ‘Anyhow, I do.’

‘Consequently we shall have to refuse dear Lucia’s invitation,’ said Elizabeth regretfully. ‘Lovely, wasn’t it, the other night? And so many movements of Mozart. I began to think he must have discovered the secret of perpetual motion, and that we should be stuck there till Doomsday.’

Diva was fidgeting about the room in her restless manner. (‘Rather like a spinning top,’ thought Miss Mapp, ‘bumping into everything. I wish it would die.’)