‘Perhaps we could manage to have a week at the Ritz if we went to Scotland, funny creature,’ she said, tickling the back of his neck.
Walter laughed and began kissing her hand, one finger at a time.
‘What d’you think, then?’
‘How d’you mean? What do I think?’
‘Walter, you’re being extremely tiresome, darling. You know quite well what I mean.’
‘My precious angel, I’ve often noticed how clever you are at getting your own way, and if you’ve really made up your mind that we’ve got to have two months of potted hell in Scotland I suppose nothing can save us. But I should just like to say here and now, that I’m quite sure it would be cheaper in the end to go to the Lido. I know you wouldn’t think so, but these economies always lead to trouble; I’ve seen it so often.’
‘But, darling, we haven’t even to pay our railway journey if we go in the car, and there can’t be any expenses up there.’
‘Well, mark my words. Anyhow, if we go, let’s make Albert come too, then we might get some fun out of it.’
‘Yes, of course, and we could ask some other chums. Jane, perhaps. It won’t be too bad really, you know. Sweet darling, not to make a fuss – are you sure you don’t mind terribly? Shall I ring up Aunt Madge now?’ She kissed the top of Walter’s head and went over to the telephone.
‘Hullo? Is Lady Craigdalloch there? … Mrs Monteath … Don’t wander about, Walter, it puts me off. No, don’t – that’s my coffee … Hullo, Aunt Madge? Sally speaking … Yes, we’ve just got it … Well, we think we’d love to … No, sweet of you. Can we come and see you sometime and talk it over? … Yes, of course, you must be frightfully. When do you go? … Oh, goodness what a rush for you! … Yes, we could be there in about half an hour … All right, we’ll meet you there … No, perfect for us. Good-bye!’
Sally hung up the receiver.
‘Where d’you think we’ve got to meet them? You’d never guess, but it’s so typical of them, really. The House of Lords! So come on, my angel, and dress, because I said we’d be there in half an hour.’
Sally and Walter were perched rather uncomfortably on a red leather fireguard in the Prince’s Chamber of the House of Lords. The magnificent personage, of whom they had inquired whether they could see Lord Craigdalloch, presently returned from his quest for that nobleman. ‘His lordship says he may be a little time, but I will inform her ladyship that you are here. Meanwhile, would you wait a few moments?’ He walked rather pompously to the other end of the room where he stood motionless.
‘Well, he doesn’t seem to be informing her,’ said Sally, ‘unless by telepathy. Still, I’m quite happy here, aren’t you? Of course, it just is one’s spiritual home, that’s all. Why didn’t I marry a peer? I’d really forgotten what a divine place it is, such ages since I’ve been here.’
‘Like church, isn’t it? I keep expecting the organ to peal forth. It rather reminds me of our wedding in some ways.’
‘More like a mausoleum, really. D’you see that very old man over there?’
‘I see the seven oldest living creatures, if you mean one of them.’
‘The one with the greenish face over by the statue of Queen Victoria.’
‘My dear, I hadn’t noticed him. But how awful! Can’t we help in some way? Is he dying?’
‘Oh, I expect sort of vaguely he is. This place mummifies people you know, without their having to die first, and they often go on creeping about like that for years. That’s why they’re called Die Hards. It is a most descriptive name for them, poor old sweets. Anyway, that particular one is a great friend of Daddy’s, and he disinherited his eldest son for marrying a Catholic.’
‘Not really? It’s rather heavenly to think such people do still exist. What happened to the son, though – was he quite broke?’
‘Oh, no, not at all; the Catholic was immensely rich. So, to pay the old boy out, they took the grouse moor next to his in Scotland and started a stoat and weasel farm on it and quite soon all his grouse were eaten up by the weasels. Daddy says he never got over it – it nearly broke his heart.’
Walter looked round him for a few minutes in silence. ‘I haven’t seen anybody the least aristocratic-looking yet,’ he remarked presently, ‘except, of course, the boy friend who is by way of informing your aunt that we are here. He’s a lovely man, but all the others look exactly like very old and decrepit doctors. I can imagine any of them pulling out a thermometer and saying, “Well, well, and how are we today? Put out your tongue and say ‘Ah.’” Now, there is rather a spry-looking one by the door. He might be a dentist or a masseur. What’s the muttering about in the next room?’
‘Someone making a speech. Uncle Craig, most likely, as they’re all trooping out. They can put up with a lot here (they have to, poor angels!), but it’s only the ones who can’t walk that stay and listen to Uncle Craig, and you should see the expression on their faces when they realize what they’re in for – pitiful, like trapped animals!
‘I heard him speak once about the peeresses in their own right who want to sit in the House of Lords. It was quite unintelligible and no wonder. His only real reason for not wanting them is that he thinks they might have to use the peers’ lavatory, and, of
