“How you shot the goat and frightened the tiger to death,” said Miss Mebbin, with her disagreeably pleasant laugh.

“No one would believe it,” said Mrs. Packletide, her face changing colour as rapidly as though it were going through a book of patterns before post-time.

“Loona Bimberton would,” said Miss Mebbin. Mrs. Packletide’s face settled on an unbecoming shade of greenish white.

“You surely wouldn’t give me away?” she asked.

“I’ve seen a weekend cottage near Dorking that I should rather like to buy,” said Miss Mebbin with seeming irrelevance. “Six hundred and eighty, freehold. Quite a bargain, only I don’t happen to have the money.”