“Have you telephoned about the boilers, Dulcie?”

“Aunt Akky, the lines are down.”

“Well, order a hack and ride.”

“Aunt Akky, we haven’t any horses now.”

“I keep forgettin’.”

“But allow me,” cried Mrs. Bünz, “allow me to take a message on my return. I shall be so delighted.”

“Are you ridin’?”

“I have a little car.”

“Motorin’? Very civil of you, I must say. Just tell William Andersen at the Copse that our boiler’s burst, if you will. Much obliged. Me niece’ll see you out. Ask you to ’scuse me.”

She held out her short arm and Miss Mardian began to haul at it.

“No, no! Ach, please. I implore you!” shouted Mrs. Bünz, wringing her hands. “Dame Alice! Before you go! I have driven for two days. If you will listen for one minute. On my knees —”

“If you’re beggin’,” said Dame Alice, “it’s no good. Nothin’ to give away these days. Dulcie.”

“But, no, no, no! I am not begging. Or only,” urged Mrs. Bünz, “for a moment’s attention. Only for von liddle vord.”

“Dulcie, I’m goin’.”

“Yes, Aunt Akky.”

“Guided as I have been —”

“I don’t like fancy religions,” said Dame Alice, who with the help of her niece had arrived at the door and opened it.

“Does the winter solstice mean nothing to you? Does the Mardian Mawris Dance of the Five Sons mean nothing? Does—” Something in the two faces that confronted her caused Mrs. Bünz to come to a stop. Dame Alice’s upper denture noisily capsized on its opposite number. In the silence that followed this mishap there was an outbreak from the geese. A man’s voice shouted and a door slammed.

“I don’t know,” said Dame Alice with difficulty and passion, “I don’t know who yar or what chupter. But you’ll oblige me by takin’ yerself off.” She turned on her great-niece. “You,” she said, “are a blitherin’ idiot. I’m angry. I’m goin’.”