‘But what’s the idea, anyway?’ said Julia, yawning. ‘What does it mean?’

Miss Blacklock said slowly, ‘I suppose-it’s some silly sort of hoax.’

‘But why?’ Dora Bunner exclaimed. ‘What’s the point of it? It seems a very stupid sort of joke. And in very bad taste.’

Her flabby cheeks quivered indignantly, and her short-sighted eyes sparkled with indignation.

Miss Blacklock smiled at her.

‘Don’t work yourself up over it, Bunny,’ she said. ‘It’s just somebody’s idea of humour, but I wish I knew whose.’

‘It says today,’ pointed out Miss Bunner. ‘Today at6.30 p.m. What do you think is going to happen?’

‘Death!’ said Patrick in sepulchral tones. ‘Delicious death.’

‘Be quiet, Patrick,’ said Miss Blacklock as Miss Bunner gave a little yelp.

‘I only meant the special cake that Mitzi makes,’ said Patrick apologetically. ‘You know wealways call it delicious death.’

Miss Blacklock smiled a little absent-mindedly.

Miss Bunner persisted: ‘But Letty, what do you really think-?’

Her friend cut across the words with reassuring cheerfulness.

‘I know one thing that will happen at 6.30,’ she said dryly. ‘We’ll have half the village up here, agog with curiosity. I’d better make sure we’ve got some sherry in the house.’

‘Youare worried, aren’t you Lotty?’

Miss Blacklock started. She had been sitting at her writing-table, absent-mindedly drawing little fishes on the blotting paper. She looked up into the anxious face of her old friend.

She was not quite sure what to say to Dora Bunner. Bunny, she knew, mustn’t be worried or upset. She was silent for a moment or two, thinking.

She and Dora Bunner had been at school together. Dora then had been a pretty, fair-haired, blue-eyed rather stupid girl.