“This evening? What do you mean, this evening?”

“At half past six.”

“But that is the time in the paper? Who should come then? Why should they come?”

“They’re coming to the funeral,” said Miss Blacklock with a twinkle. “That’ll do now, Mitzi. I’m busy. Shut the door after you,” she added firmly.

“And that’s settled her for the moment,” she said as the door closed behind a puzzled-looking Mitzi.

“You are so efficient, Letty,” said Miss Bunner admiringly.

Three

AT 6:30 P.M.

I

“Well, here we are, all set,” said Miss Blacklock. She looked round the double drawing room with an appraising eye. The rose-patterned chintzes—the two bowls of bronze chrysanthemums, the small vase of violets and the silver cigarette box on a table by the wall, the tray of drinks on the centre table.

Little Paddocks was a medium-sized house built in the early Victorian style. It had a long shallow veranda and green shuttered windows. The long, narrow drawing room which lost a good deal of light owing to the veranda roof had originally had double doors at one end leading into a small room with a bay window. A former generation had removed the double doors and replaced them with portieres of velvet. Miss Blacklock had dispensed with the portieres so that the two rooms had become definitely one. There was a fireplace each end, but neither fire was lit although a gentle warmth pervaded the room.

“You’ve had the central heating lit,” said Patrick.

Miss Blacklock nodded.

“It’s been so misty and damp lately. The whole house felt clammy. I got Evans to light it before he went.”

“The precious precious coke?” said Patrick mockingly.

“As you say, the precious coke. But otherwise there would have been the even more precious coal. You know the Fuel Office won’t even let us have the little bit that’s due to us each week—not unless we can say definitely that we haven’t got any other means of cooking.”

“I suppose there was once heaps of coke and coal for everybody?” said Julia with the interest of one hearing about an unknown country.

“Yes, and cheap, too.”

“And anyone could go and buy as much as they wanted, without filling in anything, and there wasn’t any shortage? There was lots of it there?”

“All kinds and qualities—and not all stones and slates like what we get nowadays.”

“It must have been a wonderful world,” said Julia, with awe in her voice.

Miss Blacklock smiled. “Looking back on it, I certainly think so. But then I’m an old woman. It’s natural for me to prefer my own times. But you young things oughtn’t to think so.”

“I needn’t have had a job then,” said Julia. “I could just have stayed at home and done the flowers, and written notes … Why did one write notes and who were they to?”

“All the people that you now ring up on the telephone,” said Miss Blacklock with a twinkle. “I don’t believe you even know how to write, Julia.”