“Well,” returned Mr. Beresford provokingly. “Which is your favourite picture?”

“Don’t be a wretch. Aren’t there any answers?”

Tommy shook his head with a deep and somewhat overacted melancholy.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you, old thing, by telling you right off. It’s too bad. Good money wasted.” He sighed. “Still, there it is. The advertisement has appeared, and⁠—there are only two answers!”

“Tommy, you devil!” almost screamed Tuppence. “Give them to me. How could you be so mean!”

“Your language, Tuppence, your language! They’re very particular at the National Gallery. Government show, you know. And do remember, as I have pointed out to you before, that as a clergyman’s daughter⁠—”