"What you want to do," I said at last, "is to write a really long letter
to Mrs. Cardew, acquainting her with all the facts. Keep nothing back
from her. I should begin by dwelling on the personnel of our little
company. 'My husband and I,' you should say, 'are not alone. We have
also with us Mr. and Mrs. Archibald Mannering, a delightful couple. Mr.
A. Mannering is something in the Territorials when he is not looking
after his estate. His wife is a great favourite in the county. Next I
have to introduce to you Mr. Thomas Todd, an agreeable young bachelor.
Mr. Thos. Todd is in the Sucking-a-ruler-and-looking-out-of-the-window
Department of the Admiralty, by whose exertions, so long as we preserve
the 2 Todds to 1 formula--or, excluding Canadian Todds, 16 to
10--Britannia rules the waves. Lastly, there is Mr. Samuel Simpson.
Short of sight but warm of heart, and with (on a bad pitch) a nasty
break from the off, Mr. S. Simpson is a _littérateur_ of some eminence
but little circulation, combining on the cornet intense wind-power with
no execution, and on the golf course an endless enthusiasm with only an
occasional contact. This, dear Mrs. Cardew, is our little party. I say
nothing of my husband.'"
"Go on," smiled Myra. "You have still to explain how we invite ourselves
to lunch."
"We don't; we leave that to her. All we do is to give a list of the
meals in which, in the ordinary course, we are wont to indulge, together
with a few notes on our relative capacities at each. 'Perhaps,' you wind
up, 'it is at luncheon time that as a party we show to the best
advantage. Some day, my dear Mrs. Cardew, we must all meet at lunch. You
will then see that I have exaggerated neither my husband's appetite, nor
the light conversation of my brother, nor the power of apology, should
any little _contretemps_ occur, of Mr. Samuel Simpson. Let us, I say,
meet at lunch. Let us----'" I took out my watch suddenly.
"Come on," I said, getting up and giving a hand to Myra; "we shall only
just be in time for it."