“Well?” parried Audrey, holding one hand behind her.

They did not shake hands.  People who call at ten o’clock in the morning cannot expect to have their hands shaken.  Miss Ingate certainly expected nothing of the sort.  She had the freedom of Flank Hall, as of scores of other houses, at all times of day.  Servants opened front doors for her with a careless smile, and having shut front doors they left her loose, like a familiar cat, to find what she wanted.  They seldom “showed” her into any room, nor did they dream of acting before her the unconvincing comedy of going to “see” whether masters or mistresses were out or in.

“Where’s your mother?” asked Miss Ingate idly, quite sure that interesting divulgations would come, and quite content to wait for them.  She had been out of the village for over a week.

“Mother’s taking her acetyl salicylic,” Audrey answered, coming to the door of the study.

This meant merely that Mrs. Moze had a customary attack of the neuralgia for which the district is justly renowned among strangers.

“Oh!” murmured Miss Ingate callously.  Mrs. Moze, though she had lived in the district for twenty-five years, did not belong to it.  If she chose to keep on having neuralgia, that was her affair, but in justice to natives and to the district she ought not to make too much of it, and she ought to admit that it might well be due to her weakness after her operation.  Miss Ingate considered the climate to be the finest in England; which it was, on the condition that you were proof against neuralgia.

“Father’s gone to Colchester in the car to see the Bishop,” Audrey coldly added.

“If I’d known he was going to Colchester I should have asked him for a lift,” said Miss Ingate, with determination.

“Oh, yes!  He’d have taken you!” said Audrey, reserved.  “I suppose you had fine times in London!”

“Oh!  It was vehy exciting!  It was vehy exciting!” Miss Ingate agreed loudly.

“Father wouldn’t let me read about it in the paper,” said Audrey, still reserved.  “He never will, you know.  But I did!”

“Oh!  But you didn’t read about me playing the barrel organ all the way down Regent Street, because that wasn’t in any of the papers.”

“You didn’t!” Audrey protested, with a sudden dark smile.

“Yes, I did.  Yes, I did.  Yes, I did.  And vehy tiring it was.  Vehy tiring indeed.  It’s quite an art to turn a barrel organ.  If you don’t keep going perfectly even it makes the tune jerky.  Oh!  I know a bit about barrel organs now.  They smashed it all to pieces.  Oh yes!  All to pieces.  I spoke to the police.  I said, ‘Aren’t you going to protect these ladies’ property?’ But they didn’t lift a finger.”

“And weren’t you arrested?”

“Me!” shrieked Miss Ingate.  “Me arrested!” Then more quietly, in an assured tone, “Oh no!  I wasn’t arrested.  You see, as soon as the row began I just walked away from the organ and became one of the crowd.  I’m all for them, but I wasn’t going to be arrested.”