“Oh, I can assure you, Lord Buntingdon, that if he had pointed out we were spoiling his shooting arrangements and asked us to take our tea elsewhere we should have complied with such a request immediately. Oh, but immediately, Lord Buntingdon.”

“Quite, quite. As you know I do not preserve game myself, but consideration is owed to landowners who do.”

“We always impress that on our young people, Lord Buntingdon,” said the Secretary earnestly. “I always say if you’re on private property you must behave as if you were in somebody else’s house. But we were given no opportunity to apologize and withdraw. This Mr MacDonald literally charged at us and when I tried to explain what the N.U.H. was he gripped me by the collar and shook and shook and shook and …”

“Yes, you’ve already made that clear,” Lord Buntingdon interrupted. “Fill up your glass, Mr Prew,” he added, pushing the decanter of port towards his guest.

“Thank you, no, Lord Buntingdon. I find that more than one glass of port tends to aggravate my rheumatism.”

“You suffer from rheumatism, do you?”

“Yes, in the knees, Lord Buntingdon. Ah, well, anno domini, anno domini. One must accept it.”

“You get it in the knees, eh? That’s where I get it sometimes. I have wondered whether we’re wise to wear shorts at our age.”

“Oh, Lord Buntingdon,” the Secretary exclaimed, “don’t say that! My own idea is that if we didn’t wear shorts as often as we could we should have much worse rheumatism. I think shorts are the healthiest garments any man can wear, or any woman for that matter.”

“Not any woman, Mr Prew. The faintest touch of steatopygy is fatal to the successful wearing of shorts.”

“Yes, I suppose it would be,” the Secretary agreed, wondering what on earth steatopygy was. “But surely that’s a rare complaint?”

“Not so rare as all that among women.”

“I must admit I’m a little ignorant about certain aspects of women, Lord Buntingdon. A bachelor, you know.”

“I’m a bachelor too, don’t forget.”

“Yes, indeed, so you are, Lord Buntingdon. Shall I strike a jarring note if I call it a blessed state?”

“I’ve never regretted it. But then of course I’ve had so many interests,” the peer went 0n dreamily. “The League of Nations, and promoting the culture of the soya bean, and basic English, and spelling reform, and hiking, and of course my tortoises.”

“I know, Lord Buntingdon, I know. The variety of your interests is truly phenomenal. Oh, that reminds me, we were approached the other day by the Nudist Ramblers Society asking if we would accept them as an affiliated branch of the N.U.H. The Committee rejected the application.”

“Quite right,” said Lord Buntingdon decidedly.