He got up from his chair; suddenly he glanced at the clock.

‘I say, Auntie Con, isn’t your clock a bit slow? I’ve got to meet a man at – at Paddington just after five. I’m afraid I shan’t be able to stay very long with grandfather.’

‘Oh, he won’t expect you to stay very long!’ said Aunt Josephine.

Constantia was still gazing at the clock. She couldn’t make up her mind if it was fast or slow. It was one or the other, she felt almost certain of that. At any rate, it had been.

Cyril still lingered. ‘Aren’t you coming along, Auntie Con?’

‘Of course,’ said Josephine, ‘we shall all go. Come on, Con.’

IX

They knocked at the door, and Cyril followed his aunts into grandfather’s hot, sweetish room.

‘Come on,’ said Grandfather Pinner. ‘Don’t hang about. What is it? What’ve you been up to?’

He was sitting in front of a roaring fire, clasping his stick. He had a thick rug over his knees. On his lap there lay a beautiful pale yellow silk handkerchief.

‘It’s Cyril, father,’ said Josephine shyly. And she took Cyril’s hand and led him forward.

‘Good afternoon, grandfather,’ said Cyril, trying to take his hand out of Aunt Josephine’s. Grandfather Pinner shot his eyes at Cyril in the way he was famous for. Where was Auntie Con? She stood on the other side of Aunt Josephine; her long arms hung down in front of her; her hands were clasped. She never took her eyes off grandfather.

‘Well,’ said Grandfather Pinner, beginning to thump, ‘what have you got to tell me?’

What had he, what had he got to tell him? Cyril felt himself smiling like a perfect imbecile. The room was stifling, too.

But Aunt Josephine came to his rescue. She cried brightly, ‘Cyril says his father is still very fond of meringues, father dear.’

‘Eh?’ said Grandfather Pinner, curving his hand like a purple meringue-shell over one ear.

Josephine repeated, ‘Cyril says his father is still very fond of meringues.’

‘Can’t hear,’ said old Colonel Pinner. And he waved Josephine away with his stick, then pointed with his stick to Cyril. ‘Tell me what she’s trying to say,’ he said.

(My God!) ‘Must I?’ said Cyril, blushing and staring at Aunt Josephine.

‘Do, dear,’ she smiled. ‘It will please him so much.’

‘Come on, out with it!’ cried Colonel Pinner testily, beginning to thump again.

And Cyril leaned forward and yelled, ‘Father’s still very fond of meringues.’

At that Grandfather Pinner jumped as though he had been shot.

‘Don’t shout!’ he cried. ‘What’s the matter with the boy? Meringues! What about ’em?’

‘Oh, Aunt Josephine, must we go on?’ groaned Cyril desperately.

‘It’s quite all right, dear boy,’ said Aunt Josephine, as though he and she were at the dentist’s together. ‘He’ll understand in a minute.’ And she whispered to Cyril, ‘He’s getting a bit deaf, you know.’ Then she leaned forward and really bawled at Grandfather Pinner, ‘Cyril only wanted to tell you, father dear, that his father is still very fond of meringues.’

Colonel Pinner heard that time, heard and brooded, looking Cyril up and down.

‘What an esstrordinary thing!’ said old Grandfather Pinner. ‘What an esstrordinary thing to come all this way here to tell me!’

And Cyril felt it was.

‘Yes, I shall send Cyril the watch,’ said Josephine.

‘That would be very nice,’ said Constantia. ‘I seem to remember last time he came there was some little trouble about the time.’

X

They were interrupted by Kate bursting through the door in her usual fashion, as though she had discovered some secret panel in the wall.

‘Fried or boiled?’ asked the bold voice.

Fried or boiled? Josephine and Constantia were quite bewildered for the moment. They could hardly take it in.

‘Fried or boiled what, Kate?’ asked Josephine, trying to begin to concentrate.

Kate gave a loud sniff. ‘Fish.’

‘Well, why didn’t you say so immediately?’ Josephine reproached her gently. ‘How could you expect us to understand, Kate? There are a great many things in this world, you know, which are fried or boiled.’ And after such a display of courage she said quite brightly to Constantia, ‘Which do you prefer, Con?’

‘I think it might be nice to have it fried,’ said Constantia. ‘On the other hand, of course, boiled fish is very nice. I think I prefer both equally well … Unless you … In that case – ’

‘I shall fry it,’ said Kate, and she bounced back, leaving their door open and slamming the door of her kitchen.

Josephine gazed at Constantia; she raised her pale eyebrows until they rippled away into her pale hair. She got up.