But Miss Blacklog, with a smile, had already left the room.
"It's no good, Bunny," said Patrick.
"Aunt Letty's so efficient that she can never bear anybody else to do things for her.
She really much prefers to do everything herself."
"She loves it," said Julia.
"I didn't notice you making any offers of assistance," said her brother.
Julia smiled lazily.
"You've just said Aunt Letty likes to do things herself," she pointed out.
"Besides," she held out a wellshaped leg in a sheer stocking, "I've got my best stockings on."
"Death in silk stockings!" declaimed Patrick.
"Not silk - nylons, you idiot."
"That's not nearly such a good title."
"Won't somebody please tell me," cried Phillipa, plaintively, "why there is all this insistence on death?"
Everybody tried to tell her at once - nobody could find the Gazette to show her because Mitzi had taken it into the kitchen.
Miss Blacklog returned a few minutes later.
"There," she said briskly, "that's done." She glanced at the clock.
"Twenty-past six.
Somebody ought to be here soon - unless I'm entirely wrong in my estimate of my neighbours."
"I don't see why anybody should come," said Phillipa, looking bewildered.
"Don't you, dear?...
I dare say you wouldn't.
But most people are rather more inquisitive than you are."
"Phillipa's attitude to life is that she just isn't interested," said Julia, rather nastily.
Phillipa did not reply.
Miss Blacklog was glancing round the room.
Mitzi had put the sherry and three dishes containing olives, cheese straws and some little fancy pastries on the table in the middle of the room.
"You might move that tray - or the whole table if you like - round the corner into the bay window in the other room, Patrick, if you don't mind.
After all, I am not giving a party!
I haven't asked anyone.
And I don't intend to make it obvious that I expect people to turn up."
"You wish, Aunt Letty, to disguise your intelligent anticipation?"
"Very nicely put, Patrick.
Thank you, my dear boy."
"Now we can all give a lovely performance of a quiet evening at home," said Julia, "and be quite surprised when somebody drops in."
Miss Blacklog had picked up the sherry bottle. She stood holding it uncertainly in her hand.
Patrick reassured her. "There's quite half a bottle there.
It ought to be enough."
"Oh, yes - yes..."
She hesitated.
Then, with a slight flush, she said:
"Patrick, would you mind... there's a new bottle in the cupboard in the pantry...
Bring it and a corkscrew.
I - we - might as well have a new bottle.
This - this has been opened some time."
Patrick went on his errand without a word.
He returned with the new bottle and drew the cork. He looked up curiously at Miss Blacklog as he placed it on the tray.
"Taking things seriously, aren't you, darling?" he asked gently.
"Oh," cried Dora Bunner, shocked.
"Surely, Letty, you can't imagine -"
"Hush," said Miss Blacklog quickly.