‘And then I’ll tell you what,’ said Georgie, with a sudden splendid thought, ‘why not paint on to it (I can’t afford any more cutting) the inscription that was to have been put on it when that man went bankrupt and I bought the monument instead? He’ll get his monument for nothing, and I shall get rid of mine, which is just what I want… That’s beautiful. Now you must send a trolley to my house and take a very big kitchen table, the one in fact, back to Grebe. It must go in through the door of the kitchen-garden and be put quietly into the kitchen. And I particularly want it done today.’

All went well with these thoughtful plans. Georgie saw with his own eyes the last word of his inscription disappear in chips of marble; and he carried away all the lead letters in case they might come in useful for something, though he could not have said what: perhaps he would have ‘Mallards Cottage’ let into the threshold of his house for that long inscription would surely contain the necessary letters. Rather a pretty and original idea. Then he ascertained that the kitchen table had been restored to its place while Lucia slept, and he drove down at dinner time feeling that he had done his best. He wore his white waistcoat with onyx buttons for the happy occasion.

Lucia was looking exceedingly well and much sunburnt. By way of resting she had written a larger number of postcards to all her friends, both here and elsewhere, than Georgie had ever seen together in one place.

‘Georgino,’ she cried. ‘There’s so much to say that I hardly know where to begin. I think my adventures first, quite shortly, for I shall dictate a full account of them to my secretary, and have a party next week for all Tilling, and read them out to you. Two parties, I expect, for I don’t think I shall be able to read it all in one evening. Now we go back to Boxing Day.

‘I went into the kitchen that afternoon,’ she said as they sat down to dinner, ‘and there was Elizabeth. I asked her – naturally, don’t you think? – why she was there, and she said, “I came to thank you for that delicious pâté, and to ask if –” That was as far as she got – I must return to that later – when the bank burst with a frightful roar, and the flood poured in. I was quite calm. We got on to, I should really say into the table – By the way, was the table ever washed up?’

‘Yes,’ said Georgie, ‘it’s in your kitchen now. I sent it back.’