EXCEPTING MRS. PENTHERBY


It was Reggie Bruttle's own idea for converting what had threatened to be
an albino elephant into a beast of burden that should help him along the
stony road of his finances. "The Limes," which had come to him by
inheritance without any accompanying provision for its upkeep, was one of
those pretentious, unaccommodating mansions which none but a man of
wealth could afford to live in, and which not one wealthy man in a
hundred would choose on its merits. It might easily languish in the
estate market for years, set round with noticeboards proclaiming it, in
the eyes of a sceptical world, to be an eminently desirable residence.

Reggie's scheme was to turn it into the headquarters of a prolonged
country-house party, in session during the months from October till the
end of March--a party consisting of young or youngish people of both
sexes, too poor to be able to do much hunting or shooting on a serious
scale, but keen on getting their fill of golf, bridge, dancing, and
occasional theatre-going. No one was to be on the footing of a paying
guest, but every one was to rank as a paying host; a committee would look
after the catering and expenditure, and an informal sub-committee would
make itself useful in helping forward the amusement side of the scheme.

As it was only an experiment, there was to be a general agreement on the
part of those involved in it to be as lenient and mutually helpful to one
another as possible. Already a promising nucleus, including one or two
young married couples, had been got together, and the thing seemed to be
fairly launched.