be kept busy here for some weeks, but expect to run up
to town for a day's business now and then, when I will give myself the
pleasure of calling on you. Meanwhile, will you kindly pass on the news
to Miss Wastneys. I know she will be interested. I rely on you to
fulfil your kind promise." By the same post came a letter from
Charmion, tentatively breaking the news that she would not return for
Christmas. Several minor reasons had contributed to this decision, but
the big one was that she was still "working out her cure" and could do
it better in solitude. What about me? Would I go to Ireland? Could I
work in a visit to friends? Rather than think of me sitting alone in my
dreary little flat, she would put everything on one side, and come
rushing home.

"Dreary little flat, indeed!" I looked round the dainty, rose-lit room,
and laughed a derisive laugh. It was strange. I did not feel a bit
depressed. Life in the basement flat was very full, very interesting,
of late days thrillingly exciting into the bargain. I was not at all
sure that I wanted to go back to "Pastimes" so soon. Christmas in the
flat offered endless possibilities. I would have a tree! Mrs Manners
should help me. Her children would come, and all the Thorolds, and
their father, and Mr Hallett. There should be lots of toys, and lots
of baubles, but useful things too! Things which should truthfully be
"just what I wanted!" Perhaps I would be noble and forgiving and ask
Eric and Claudia and Moreen. Poor mites, it wasn't their fault that
their mother wore false pearls! The tree should be on Christmas Eve,
and on Christmas night I would invite the grown-ups to dinner, and give
them a light, dainty feast, with never a shadow of roast beef or plum
pudding! They could do their duty by convention at the midday meal.

In two minutes' time I had thought out the whole menu, even the
decorations on the table. What fun it would be! How they would all
enjoy it! How little Mrs Manners would revel in the shopping
expeditions! Her present should be a pretty blouse--something pretty,
bought with a view to what is becoming, and not to what will be useful,
and wear for several seasons, and then cut up into dusters. An
occasional extravagance _is_ such a tonic to a feminine mind! As for
the men, Mr Thorold should have a box of cigars. Mr Hallett should
have the same. And in the deadliest secrecy I would commission each to
buy for the other. Then