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The car came opposite her, and she curtsied so low that recovery was impossible, and she sat down in the road. Her parasol flew out of her hand and out of her parasol the Union Jack. She saw a young man looking out of the window, dressed in khaki, grinning broadly, but not, so she thought, graciously, and it suddenly struck her that there was something, beside her own part in the affair, which was not as it should be. As he put his head in again there was loud laughter from the inside of the car.

Mr. Wootten helped her up and the entire assembly of her friends crowded round her, hoping she was not hurt.

“No, dear Major, dear Padre, not at all, thanks,” she said. “So stupid: my ancle turned. Oh, yes, the Union Jack I bought for my nephew, it’s his birthday to-morrow. Thank you. I just came to see about my coke: of course I thought the Prince had arrived when you all went down to meet the 4.15. Fancy my running straight into it all! How well he looked.”

This was all rather lame, and Miss Mapp hailed Mrs. Poppit’s appearance from the station as a welcome diversion.… Mrs. Poppit was looking vexed.