CHAPTER I

MAGIC COMES TO A COMMITTEE


There were six women, seven chairs, and a table in an otherwise
unfurnished room in an unfashionable part of London. Three of the women
were of the kind that has no life apart from committees. They need not
be mentioned in detail. The names of two others were Miss Meta Mostyn
Ford and Lady Arabel Higgins. Miss Ford was a good woman, as well as a
lady. Her hands were beautiful because they paid a manicurist to keep
them so, but she was too righteous to powder her nose. She was the sort
of person a man would like his best friend to marry. Lady Arabel was
older: she was virtuous to the same extent as Achilles was invulnerable.
In the beginning, when her soul was being soaked in virtue, the heel of
it was fortunately left dry. She had a husband, but no apparent tragedy
in her life. These two women were obviously not native to their
surroundings. Their eyelashes brought Bond Street--or at least
Kensington--to mind; their shoes were mudless; their gloves had not been
bought in the sales. Of the sixth woman the less said the better.

All six women were there because their country was at war, and because
they felt it to be their duty to assist it to remain at war for the
present. They were the nucleus of a committee on War Savings, and they
were waiting for their Chairman, who was the Mayor of the borough. He
was also a grocer.

Five of the members were discussing methods of persuading poor people to
save money. The sixth was making spots on the table with a pen.