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hostess.’
    ‘When would you like us to go up there?’ asked Sally.
    ‘Let me think. The first guests, of course, arrive on the 10th. Could you go up about the 8th? You’ll find General Murgatroyd. He’s there now, dear thing, fishing.’
    ‘Is it a big party for the 12th?’
    ‘I think I can tell you exactly who will be there. Lord and Lady Prague – he is a great friend of your papa, Sally; very deaf, poor dear, but an extremely good shot. He married her
en secondes noces
some years ago. She was Florence Graiday. She will be a great help to you, I think, a wonderfully charming woman and so artistic. They will probably stay quite a month. They always do every year. Then a delightful young couple, the Chadlingtons. Brenda Chadlington is the daughter of a very old friend of mine. She is a most beautiful creature. The other two guns are Admiral Wenceslaus, a dear thing with only one eye; and Mr Buggins, who is, of course, secretary of the Nelson Club, a very cultured man. His wife, poor woman, is shut up, has been quite mad for years.’
    ‘Is General Murgatroyd married?’ asked Sally rather nervously. She felt that all these women might prove to be very alarming.
    ‘No, dear, he is not. That is to say, he
was
married but unfortunately, he was obliged to divorce his wife. None of us was surprised. She was a girl from the Baker Street Bazaar, you know. She got a hold over him somehow and made him marry her. But it all happened years ago – thirty years at least, I suppose. Here comes your Uncle Craig.’
    Sally kissed her uncle, who seemed genuinely pleased to see her.
    ‘We heard your speech, Uncle Craig,’ she lied, ‘from the Strangers’ Galley. It was most interesting.’
    ‘Glad you think so, my dear. One has one’s duty, you know; born into a certain position and so forth. It’s no use pretending that one enjoys coming here, or that it will be very pleasantgoing off to New South Rhodesia just when the moor has never been better. Still, as my poor father used to say, one’s not only put here for enjoyment. All the same,’ he added, brightening somewhat, ‘Gillibrough tells me I may get the chance of shooting a lion or two and possibly some hartebeest in Rhodesia. Well, Walter, what d’you think of this place? Never been here before, eh? Finest legislative assembly in the world, you know, nothing to touch it anywhere. Made England what she is today – the House of Lords. The work that goes on here, you wouldn’t believe it. There’s no place like it for work, and all unpaid. And then the Socialists pretend we don’t do our bit. I’ll tell you one thing, Walter: the reform of the House of Lords will be the downfall of England.’ He bristled at the idea, then continued more gently, ‘So you two are going up to Dalloch to look after our guests for us, eh? Very kind of you, I think. Now, have you any friends of your own you’d like to ask for the shooting, eh?’
    ‘We’d rather like to ask someone called Albert Gates, if we may, but he doesn’t shoot, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Doesn’t shoot? And Walter doesn’t shoot either? I can’t think what all these young men are coming to. What does he do, then?’
    ‘He studies painting, Uncle Craig.’
    ‘An artist, is he? Well, well, how did you get to know him, then? As a matter of fact, now I come to think of it, I once knew an artist myself called Leighton – Lord Leighton. Not a bad fellow at all, really quite a decent sort of chap considering. If your friend paints he’ll like being up at Dalloch: the views are really superb, wonderful colour effects, you know.’
    ‘The old parts of the house are very paintable too,’ said Lady Craigdalloch. ‘Dear Mr Buggins always does some charming water-colour sketches on non-shooting days.’
    ‘See that youngish man who’s just come in, Sally?’ said her uncle suddenly.
    Sally saw a man of unbelievable age creeping towards them, his limbs positively shaking with palsy.
    ‘That’s Prague, he’s