can
all talk at once."

"Here she is. Dahlia, for Heaven's sake come and tell us the
arrangements for the day. Start with the idea fixed in your mind that
Myra and I have ordered lunch for six."

Dahlia shepherded us to a quiet corner of the lounge and we all sat
down.

"By the way," said Simpson, "are there any letters for me?"

"No; it's your turn to write," said Archie.

"But, my dear chap, there _must_ be one, because----"

"But you never acknowledged the bed-socks," I pointed out. "She can't
write till you---- I mean, it was rather forward of her to send them at
all; and if you haven't even----"

"Well," said Dahlia, "what does anybody want to do?"

Thomas was the first to answer the question. A girl in red came in from
the breakfast-room and sat down near us. She looked up in our direction
and met Thomas's eye.

"Good morning," said Thomas, with a smile, and he left us and moved
across to her.

"That's the girl he danced with all last night," whispered Myra. "I
can't think what's come over him. Is this our reserved Thomas--Thomas
the taciturn, whom we know and love so well? I don't like the way she
does her hair."

"She's a Miss Aylwyn," said Simpson in a loud voice. "I had one dance
with her myself."

"The world," said Archie, "is full of people with whom Samuel has had
one dance."

"Well, that washes Thomas out, anyway. He'll spend the day teaching her
something. What are the rest of us going to do?"

There was a moment's silence.

"Oh, Archie," said Dahlia, "did you get those nails put in my boots?"

I looked at Myra ... and sighed.

"Sorry, dear," he said. "I'll take them down now. The man will do them
in twenty minutes." He walked over to the lift at the same moment that
Thomas returned to us.

"I say," began Thomas, a little awkwardly, "if you're arranging what to
do, don't bother about me. I rather thought of--er--taking it quietly
this morning. I think I overdid it a bit yesterday."

"We warned you at the time about the fourth hard-boiled egg," I said.

"I meant the ski-ing. We thought of--I thought of having lunch in the
hotel, but, of course, you can have my rucksack to carry yours in.
Er--I'll go and put it in for you."

He disappeared rather sheepishly in the direction of the dining-room.

"Now, Samuel," said Myra gently.

"Now what, Myra?"

"It's your turn. If you have a headache, tell us her name."

"My dear Myra, I want to ski to-day. Where shall we go? Let's go to