"It is, all the same," said Cyril. "I had to meet a man at Victoria, and
he kept me hanging about till...there was only time to get lunch and to
come on here. And he gave me--phew"--Cyril put his hand to his forehead--
"a terrific blow-out," he said.

It was disappointing--to-day of all days. But still he couldn't be
expected to know.

"But you'll have a meringue, won't you, Cyril?" said Aunt Josephine.
"These meringues were bought specially for you. Your dear father was so
fond of them. We were sure you are, too."

"I am, Aunt Josephine," cried Cyril ardently. "Do you mind if I take half
to begin with?"

"Not at all, dear boy; but we mustn't let you off with that."

"Is your dear father still so fond of meringues?" asked Auntie Con gently.
She winced faintly as she broke through the shell of hers.

"Well, I don't quite know, Auntie Con," said Cyril breezily.

At that they both looked up.

"Don't know?" almost snapped Josephine. "Don't know a thing like that
about your own father, Cyril?"

"Surely," said Auntie Con softly.