"She isn't in yet?" I asked innocently.

"Oh! she's not coming," said Hyacinth, raising her eyebrows and
laughing; "she always has something to do on dancing days. The
Frauleins get on her nerves. They sit all round the room."

And Hyacinth indicated the position of the Frauleins with a sweep
of her arm.

"What time is it now?" I asked.

"Half past three," she said; "I'm ready."

"I'm not," I said savagely.

I went upstairs, vowing vengeance on Zerlina. I could have shaken
Hyacinth, poor child, and why? Because her legs were too long, or
her skirts too short, or the bow in her hair too large? What a
disagreeable, cross-grained professional aunt I was! Or did I
miss the hug Hyacinth might have given me?

I was only just ready when the children began to arrive. I flew
downstairs and found not only children in every shape and form,
but mothers in big hats and trailing skirts, and Frauleins in
small hats and skirts curtailed, mademoiselles and nannies. The
nannies I handed over to the nursery department, and the mothers
and the Frauleins and the mademoiselles I arranged in a dado round
the room., making inappropriate remarks to each in turn. No
surprise was expressed at the absence of Zerlina.