"I knew I'd seen you somewhere," said I. "The last time you were on a
towel, leaning against a bottle of hairwash. That was in Flanders in
1916."

"That," said Berry, "will do. Miss Childe and I came here to lunch, not
to listen to maudlin memories of the Great War. Did I ever tell you that
a Spaniard once compared me to that elusive bloom to be found only upon
the ungathered apricot?"

"How much did you lend him?" said I.

"Perhaps he knew more about ferns," said Miss Childe.

"Blind from birth, I suppose," said Jonah's voice.

My brother-in-law rose to his feet and looked about him with the
expression of one who has detected an offensive odour.

"He was a man of singular insight and fine feeling," he said. "At the
time of his outburst I was giving evidence against him for cruelty to a
bullock. And now, for goodness' sake, somebody collect Jill and let's
have some lunch."

* * * * *

"As a matter of fact," said Miss Childe, "I've come down to get some
butter and eggs. They're usually sent, but the housekeeper's ill, and,
as I was going spare, father suggested I should run down and pick them
up."