“Hullo! Is that you, Prew? Yes? He will take the chair? That’s splendid … what’s that? No Press? But you know I always give the Press their chance. This would be splendid copy for them … well, of course, if the old boy’s adamant…. I suppose it will have to be limited to members of the Union. But I think it’s a pity to lose the publicity. After all, it is a unique occasion. There’s been nothing like it since the sort of thing you read of in history books…. Oh, I agree it adds very much to the strength of our position if Lord Buntingdon presides over the meeting, and you were quite right to give way over the Press … yes, as you say, it isn’t as if it was a meeting open to the general public. By the way, Prew, will he be wearing shorts? … well, you might ask him, will you? …”

Buckham held the receiver to await Lord Buntingdon’s decision.

Mrs Buckham, a plump blonde of about thirty-five with china-blue eyes and the winning smile of a successful businessman’s wife, smiled encouragingly at her husband.

“You’re pleased Lord Buntingdon has agreed to take the chair, Percy?”

“Very pleased,” he rapped out, his chin making passes at the receiver.

Mrs Buckham looked so conventional that it was rather surprising to find her apparently taking for granted her husband’s intention to start a civil war. The explanation was that she always attributed any eccentricity of Percy’s to its publicity value, and his success in business seemed to her an answer to every criticism.

“Is that you, Prew? What does he say? … he thinks it better not to wear shorts? Why? … yes, well, perhaps he’s right. We’ll none of us wear shorts on the platform, then. You’ll have to let the speakers know. You’d better come round to my office to-morrow morning. We’ll lunch together and discuss any details we’ve not arranged yet. Thank Lord Buntingdon from me for his assent. Say how much we all appreciate it. Good night, old man.”

Buckham hung up the receiver.

“Funny how timid these lords are, Ethel,” he observed to his wife. “I don’t think if I was the Earl of Buntingdon I should be afraid of the Press.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, Percy.”

“If this war starts it means washing out that cruise in September, unless you’d like to take Maud Runcible.”

“I’d love to take Maud Runcible.”

“Would you? All right, you’d better arrange it. I hope we get good weather. Are you coming to the meeting on Friday?”

“Do you want me to come, Percy?”

“I shall be making a speech. I think you ought to hear it.”

“Then of course I’ll come.”

Chapter 13

THE EXTRAORDINARY MEETING