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“Well, lady fair,” he said. “Gossip will have it that ye Prince of Wales is staying at Ardingly for the Sunday; indeed, he will, I suppose, pass through Tilling on Saturday afternoon—”

Miss Mapp put her forefinger to her forehead, as if trying to recollect something.

“Yes, now somebody did tell me that,” she said. “Major Flint, I believe. But when you asked for news I thought you meant something that really interested me. Yes, Padre?”

“Aweel, if he comes to service on Sunday—?”

“Dear Padre, I’m sure he’ll hear a very good sermon. Oh, I see what you mean! Whether you ought to have any special hymn? Don’t ask poor little me! Mrs. Poppit, I’m sure, would tell you. She knows all about courts and etiquette.”

Diva popped out of the stationer’s at this moment.

​“Sold out,” she announced. “Everybody wanted time-tables this morning. Evie got the last. Have to go to the station.”

“I’ll walk with you, Diva, dear,” said Miss Mapp. “There’s a parcel that— Good-bye, dear Evie, au reservoir.”

She kissed her hand to Mrs. Bartlett, leaving a smile behind it, as it fluttered away from her face, for the Padre.