“I haven’t got a land outfit,” said Sarah Brown.  “But I saw a pair called Mesopotamian Officer’s Model, with laces and real white buckskin collision mats between the knees, that would fit me, and I can pawn my——­”

At that moment there was a loud report.  Every one looked at the double bass, but all his strings were for the moment intact.

“A maroon,” said the witch.

“My dears,” exclaimed Lady Arabel, much relieved to hear that this new sensation was not supernatural.  “How too dretfully tahsome with the sweet and the savoury still to come.  Do you know, I promised Pinehurst—­my husband—­never to remain in this house during an air-raid.  It was his own fault, the dear thing; he had a craze for windows; this house has more glass space than wall, I think, and Pinehurst, in his spare time, used always to be making plans for squeezing in more windows.  Our room is like a conservatory—­so dretfully embarrassing.  So I always take my knitting across the road to the crypt of St. Sebastian’s, and I’m sure you won’t mind coming too.  You might have brought a box of spellicans, or a set of table croquet, but I’m afraid the Vicar wouldn’t like it.  A nice man but dretfully particular.  We must wait for the end of this piece, the first violin is so touchy.”

They all waited patiently while the piece continued.  It was a plain uneventful piece, composed by a Higgins relative and therefore admired in the household.

“A thing that puzzles me,” said the witch, taking advantage of an emotional pause while one violin was wheezing a very long small note by itself, “is why only ugly songs are really persistent.  Haven’t you noticed, for instance, that a peacock, or a cat on the wall, or a baby with a tin trumpet, will give their services most generously for hours on end, while a robin on a snowy tree, or a nightingale, or a fairy——­”

She was interrupted by a scuffling sound in the umbrella-stand, and Harold the Broomstick, after a moment’s rather embarrassing entanglement with a butterfly net, approached, panting.

“I must go,” said the witch.  “I bet you twopence we shall have some fun to-night.  Sarah Brown, I’ll come back and fetch you when it’s all over.”

Lady Arabel and Sarah Brown crossed the road to the church, Richard following a few yards behind.

“I’m afraid my little dinner-party wasn’t a great success,” said Lady Arabel confidentially.  “Rrchud and Angela didn’t get that good talk on occult subjects as Meta Ford said they would.  Of course Rrchud, as you noticed, was dretfully restless and lighthearted; all boys are like that for the first few hours of their leave.  He is naturally of a quiet disposition, though you wouldn’t think it from to-night.”

There was a distant blot of gunfire on the air, just as they reached the door of the crypt.  The very stout dog of the Vicar (are not all reverend dogs fat?) was waiting there with a bored look.