a chappie like me, fond of a quiet life, you simply curl into a ball when you see her coming, and hope for the best. My experience is that when Aunt Agatha wants you to do a thing you do it, or else you find yourself wondering why those fellows in the olden days made such a fuss when they had trouble with the Spanish Inquisition.
“Halloa, Aunt Agatha!” I said.
“Bertie,” she said, “you look a sight. You look perfectly dissipated.”
I was feeling like a badly wrapped brown-paper parcel.
I’m never at my best in the early morning.
I said so.
“Early morning! I had breakfast three hours ago, and have been walking in the park ever since, trying to compose my thoughts.”
If I ever breakfasted at half past eight I