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tinkling sound like water in a fountain. Confused by his poetic thoughts, he fumbled for his cap and pulled it on his head. “Ay,” he said, letting his grin spread all over his face. “The next day it is.”
    “Fine. Then I’ll look forward to it.”
    With a wave of her hand she hurried across the yard to the kitchen door, turning to send him another wave before disappearing inside.
    “Ay,” he said softly as he turned to leave. “I’ll be looking forward to it, too.”

CHAPTER
4
    “I think banked chrysanthemums in red and gold, with perhaps sprays of mimosa and dried bulrushes,” Madeline said the next morning at the committee meeting. She struck a dramatic pose and swept the air with her slender hand. “It should be quite dramatic, don’t you think? A perfect setting for a prima donna.”
    She leaned back against the marble fireplace in the library and fixed her dark eyes on Phoebe’s face, which was half hidden by the drooping veil of her enormous hat. “Now let us just hope that the songstress in question has a voice.”
    Phoebe, who sat at the long, polished table, tilted her head back to give Madeline an icy glare. “Of course WilhelminaFreidrich can sing. Admirably so, I might add. She is, after all, one of the more famous singers at Covent Garden.”
    “She sings in the vegetable market?” Madeline asked serenely.
    Phoebe uttered a most unladylike snort. “You know very well, Madeline, that I meant the Royal Opera House.”
    She turned to Cecily, who sat at the end of the table watching the exchange between the two women with weary resignation. Sometimes it was easier to let them squabble until they had resolved their differences.
    “Really, Cecily,” Phoebe exclaimed, removing the pinked edge of a purple ribbon that dangled in front of her eyes, “it amazes me that we accomplish anything at these meetings. Yesterday’s meeting was a complete waste of time, and it appears that this one is destined to suffer the same fate.”
    Cecily agreed, but refrained from saying so. “Perhaps we should get on with the discussion,” she said, sending a look of appeal at Madeline.
    “Yes, please do,” Phoebe snapped. “I have to be back at the vicarage in half an hour. Lydia Willoughby is leading the choir rehearsal for the Christmas pageant.”
    “Well, that’s good news,” Madeline said, drifting forward to take her place at the table. “Lydia’s renditions on the organ are horrendous enough to banish every evil spirit from Badgers End forever.”
    “Lydia’s musical talent may be somewhat tarnished,” Phoebe said with a haughty toss of her head that almost dislodged her hat, “but at least the woman is willing to make an effort. Not like some people who sit around wasting others’ valuable time.”
    “I think the chrysanthemums will be lovely, Madeline,” Cecily said loudly. “And the bulrushes will be a nice touch. I’m not sure about the mimosa, though. Isn’t that expensive this time of year?”
    “It’s expensive any time of the year.” Madeline shook her long black locks back from her face. “Fortunately I know someone who can supply me with enough for what I need at a very modest price.”
    “Most likely confiscated from the back of a cart,” Phoebe muttered.
    Madeline straightened her back. “I beg your pardon? Are you accusing me of stealing?”
    Phoebe smiled. “Of course not, my dear. But you have to admit that some of the company you keep does lead one to doubt their integrity.”
    “My acquaintances may not be above reproach,” Madeline said quietly, “but they are infinitely preferable to the insufferable snobs who think they own the earth and everyone on it.”
    Cecily cleared her throat. “Ladies—”
    “It’s too bad the privileged class doesn’t own the earth,” Phoebe said, glaring across the table at Madeline. “Then, perhaps, we could be rid of the thieves, vagabonds, and murderers who make this world such a dangerous place to live