The door opened and Phillipa Haymes came in. She was tall and fair and placid-looking. She looked round the room in surprise.

‘Hallo,’ she said. ‘Is it a party? Nobody told me.’

‘Of course,’ cried Patrick. ‘Our Phillipa doesn’t know. The only woman in Chipping Cleghorn who doesn’t, I bet.’

Phillipa looked at him inquiringly.

‘Here you behold,’ said Patrick dramatically, waving a hand, ‘the scene of a murder!’

Phillipa Haymes looked faintly puzzled.

‘Here,’ Patrick indicated the two big bowls of chrysanthemums, ‘are the funeral wreaths and these dishes of cheese straws and olives represent the funeral baked meats.’

Phillipa looked inquiringly at Miss Blacklock.

‘Is it a joke?’ she asked. ‘I’m always terribly stupid at seeing jokes.’

‘It’s a very nasty joke,’ said Dora Bunner with energy. ‘I don’t like it at all.’

‘Show her the advertisement,’ said Miss Blacklock. ‘Imust go and shut up the ducks. It’s dark. They’ll be in by now.’

‘Let me do it,’ said Phillipa.

‘Certainly not, my dear. You’ve finished your day’s work.’

‘I’ll do it, Aunt Letty,’ offered Patrick.

‘No, you won’t,’ said Miss Blacklock with energy. ‘Last time you didn’t latch the door properly.’

‘I’ll do it, Letty dear,’ cried Miss Bunner. ‘Indeed, I should love to. I’ll just slip on my goloshes-and now where did I put my cardigan?’

But Miss Blacklock, 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.