anyone up, I forget what I was going to say, and have to ask them to dinner instead. I guess you and mámma took all the brains of the family. Pápa, I had the heavenliest ride this morning, all through the fir-woods, and Tamburlaine wanted to jump the sound. The daisies are all coming out, and it smelt so good. Oh, it smelt so good, like—like a drug store. There's the telephone again!'
Mr. Palmer considered this a moment.
' When your mother gave her hunting-party last year,' he said, ' she commenced ringing the telephone at half-past ten in the morning, and she was late for lunch because she hadn't finished. Top speed all the time, too. She takes things seriously; that's why she comes out on top every time.'
' Yes, some more,' said Amelie to the footman.
Mr. Palmer looked quickly at the dish as it was handed her.
' What mess is that?' he asked.
' Pigeons once,' said she; ' it won't be anything in a minute or two.'
' There ought to be mushrooms in the stew. It's meant to be à la Toulon. I've forgotten more about cookery than our present chef ever knew.'
Amelie laughed.
' Poor pápa! what a lot you must forget! I guess you're failing. Well, I've regretfully finished my lunch. Are you going treadmilling?'
' Yes. Who comes down with your mother?'
' Mrs. Massington and Lord Keynes. The others come on Saturday—Mrs. Emsworth, Bilton, and that lot. Pápa, I've thought of the right name for Reggie Armstrong at last. It's Ping-pong. He's just that.'
Mr. Palmer considered this.
' Yes, Ping-pong is about the size. Small set, though. Come and treadmill, Amelie.'
