“I think I’ll smoke that afterwards.”

“Good gracious!” the flat mistress exclaimed.  “I wonder who that can be.  Just go and see, Ozzie, darling.”  And she looked at Ozzie as if to say:  “I hope it isn’t one of your indiscreet bachelor friends.”

Ozzie hastened obediently out.

“It may be Charlie,” ventured Eve.  “Wouldn’t it be nice if he called?”

“Yes, wouldn’t it?” Sissie agreed.  “I did ’phone him up to try to get him to dinner, but naturally he was away for the day.  He’s always as invisible as a millionaire nowadays.  Besides I feel somehow this place would be too much, too humble, for the mighty Charles.  Buckingham Palace would be more in his line.  But we can’t all be speculators and profiteers.”

“Sissie!” protested their mother mildly.

After mysterious and intriguing noises at the front-door had finished, and the front-door had made the whole flat vibrate to its bang, Ozzie puffed into the room with three packages, the two smaller being piled upon the third.

“They’re addressed to you,” said Ozzie to his father-in-law.

“Did you give the man anything?” Sissie asked quickly.

“No, it was Carthew and the parlourmaid—­Machin, is her name?”

“Oh!” said Sissie, apparently relieved.

“Now let us see,” said Mr. Prohack, starting at once upon the packages.

“Don’t waste that string, dad,” Sissie enjoined him anxiously.

“Eh?  What do you say?” murmured Mr. Prohack, carefully cutting string on all sides of all packages, and tearing first-rate brown paper into useless strips.  He produced from the packages four bottles of champagne of four different brands, a quantity of pate de foie gras, a jar of caviare, and several bunches of grapes that must have been grown under the most unnatural and costly conditions.

“What ever’s this?” Sissie demanded, uneasily.

“Arthur!” said Eve.  “Whatever’s the meaning of this?”

“It has a deep significance,” replied Mr. Prohack.  “The only fault I have to find with it is that it has arrived rather late—­and yet perhaps, like Bluecher, not too late.  You can call it a wedding present if you choose, daughter.  Or if you choose you can call it simply caviare, pate de foie gras, grapes and champagne.  I really have not had the courage to give you a wedding present,” he continued, “knowing how particular you are about ostentation.  But I thought if I sent something along that we could all join in consuming instantly, I couldn’t possibly do any harm.”

“We haven’t any champagne glasses,” said Sissie coldly.

“Champagne glasses, child!  You ought never to drink champagne out of champagne glasses.  Tumblers are the only thing for champagne.  Some tumblers, Ozzie.  And a tin-opener.  You must have a tin-opener.  I feel convinced you have a tin-opener.  Upon my soul, Eve, I was right after all.  I am hungry, but my hunger is nothing to my thirst.  I’m beginning to suspect that I must be the average sensual man.”