The young Herriards, and Mathilda Clare, a distant cousin, knew Joseph and Maud only as legendary figures until the sea washed them up on the shores of England two years previously - at Liverpool. They had come from South America, solvent, but without prospects. They had gravitated to Lexham Manor, and there they had remained, not too proud, said Joseph, to be Nathaniel's pensioners.

Nathaniel extended his hospitality to his brother and his sister-in-law with surprising readiness. Perhaps, hazarded Paula, he felt that Lexham needed a mistress. If so, he was disappointed, for Maud showed no inclination to take the reins of household government into her small hands. Maud's idea of human bliss seemed to consist of eating, sleeping, playing interminable games of Patience, and reading, in a desultory fashion, chatty biographies of royal personages or other celebrities.

But if Maud was static, Joseph was full of energy. It was nearly all benevolent, but, unfortunately for Nathaniel, who was not gregarious, he delighted in gathering large parties together, and liked nothing so much as filling the house with young people, and joining in their amusements.

It was Joseph who had been inspired to organise the house-party that was looming over Nathaniel's unwilling head this chill December. Joseph, having lived for so many years abroad, hankered wistfully after a real English Christmas. Nathaniel, regarding him with a contemptuous eye, said that a real English Christmas meant, in his experience, a series of quarrels between inimical persons bound to one another only by the accident of relationship, and thrown together by a wornout convention which decreed that at Christmas families should forgather.