The first thing she became aware of was that their going did not break up the party at all. The village choirmaster, deep in a discussion with Miss Hughes of the associations between heraldry and mass psychology, seemed not to notice their going. Deborah was obviously glad to see the last of them, and Baird, a semi-bald, shrewd Scotsman, looked up at them, nodded, and continued to talk to Deborah about the Edinburgh festival. Mansell and Obury were to return at about eleven, which accounted, perhaps, for the off-hand nature of the farewells.

‘That’s that,’ said Jonathan, coming back from seeing the four men off. ‘Now, then, people! Let’s have some more port.’

‘I thought you liked them,’ Deborah remarked, passing on the bottle without filling her own glass.

‘I did, more or less, Bill especially, until this Christmas,’ replied her husband. ‘But there’s been something a bit wet-blanket about them today – or am I liverish? Anyway, to be frank and inhospitable, I’m sorry I asked them – all four of them – especially Tiny and Bill – and I’m glad to see the back of them, and yet I don’t really know why.’

‘I hope it’s not my fault,’ said the young choirmaster suddenly. ‘I had a bit of a row with Tiny. He caught some of my choirboys on Christmas Eve pinching holly. He clouted them on the ear, and pretty hard. I’m not going to stand for that, and I told him so. In any case, the holly wasn’t even on his ground. It was on yours, Mr Bradley. I’ve threatened him with a summons if he touches my kids again. He can keep his Indian ideas for Indians, and I hope they cut his throat for him, at that!’

‘How long have you been choirmaster here?’ Mrs Bradley tactfully enquired; for the young man spoke hoarsely and with what Mrs Bradley privately thought to be exaggerated and dramatic anger.

‘Two years and a bit,’ he replied, as though glad of the change of subject. ‘I’m really a pianist, you know. I used to accompany professional singers in London, but I collected a bit of a packet during the war, and lost the use of one wrist. It’s not much better now, but I can manage to play the organ in church. Anyway, the doctor told me I was crazy to stay in Town when what I needed were country air and a quiet atmosphere. Out here a room was going, and so I took it, and, although I don’t earn much, I manage to get along.’ He looked challengingly at the company.

‘And have you benefited from the change of environment?’ Mrs Bradley discreetly enquired.

‘Well, I might,’ said the young man, flushing, ‘if I didn’t straightway find … Oh, I’m sorry! You’ve had it once. Anyway, I can’t stick Anglo-Indians. My father was one, and he and I …’