out.
‘I’ll find out when she comes,’ she said. ‘I’ll ask her, for indeed I feel quite an old friend already.’
‘And who’s the man?’ asked Diva.
‘Dear Mr Georgie Pillson. He entertained me so charmingly when I was at Riseholme for a night or two some years ago. They are staying at the Trader’s Arms, and off again to-morrow.’
‘What? Staying there together?’ asked Diva.
Miss Mapp turned her head slightly aside as if to avoid some faint unpleasant smell.
‘Diva dear,’ she said. ‘Old friends as we are, I should be sorry to have a mind like yours. Horrid. You’ve been reading too many novels. If widow’s weeds are not a sufficient protection against such innuendoes, a baby girl in its christening-robe wouldn’t be safe.’
‘Gracious me, I made no innuendo,’ said the astonished Diva. ‘I only meant it was rather a daring thing to do. So it is. Anything more came from your mind, Elizabeth, not mine. I merely ask you not to put it on to me, and then say I’m horrid.’
Miss Mapp smiled her widest.
‘Of course I accept your apology, dear Diva,’ she said. ‘Fully, without back-thought of any kind.’
‘But I haven’t apologized and I won’t,’ cried Diva. ‘It’s for you to do that.’
To those not acquainted with the usage of the ladies of Tilling, such bitter plain-speaking might seem to denote a serious friction between old friends. But neither Elizabeth nor Diva had any such feeling: they would both have been highly surprised if an impartial listener had imagined anything soabsurd. Such breezes, even if they grew far stronger than this, were no more than bracing airs that disposed to energy, or exercises to keep the mind fit. No malice.
‘Another cup of tea, dear?’ said Miss Mapp earnestly.
That was so like her, thought Diva: that was Elizabeth all over. When logic and good feeling alike had produced an irresistible case against her, she swept it all away, and asked you if you would have some more cold tea or cold mutton, or whatever it was.
Diva gave up. She knew she was no match for her and had more tea.
‘About our own affairs then,’ she said, ‘if that’s all settled –’
‘Yes, dear: so sweetly so harmoniously,’ said Elizabeth.
Diva swallowed a regurgitation of resentment, and went on as if she had not been interrupted.
‘– Mrs Lucas takes possession on the first of August,’ she said. ‘That’s to say, you would like to get into Wasters that day.’
‘Early that day, Diva, if you can manage it,’ said Elizabeth, ‘as I want to give my servants time to clean and tidy up. I would pop across in the morning, and my servants follow later. All so easy to manage.’
‘Then there’s another thing,’ said Diva. ‘Garden-produce. You’re leaving yours, I suppose.’
Miss Mapp gave a little trill of laughter.
‘I shan’t be digging up all my potatoes and stripping the beans and the fruit-trees,’ she said. ‘And I thought – correct me if I am wrong – that my eight guineas a week for your little house included garden-produce, which is all that really concerns you and me. I think we agreed as to that.’
Miss Mapp leant forward with an air of imparting luscious secret information, as that was settled.
‘Diva: something thrilling,’ she said. ‘I happened to be glancing out of my window just by chance a few minutes before I waved to you, and there were Mrs Lucas and Mr Pillson peering, positively peering into the windows of Mallards Cottage. I couldn’t help wondering if Mr Pillson is thinking of taking it. They seemed to be so absorbed in it. It isto let, for Isabel Poppit has taken that little brown bungalow with no proper plumbing out by the golf-links.’
‘Thrilling!’ said Diva. ‘There’s a door in the paling between that little back-yard at Mallards Cottage and your garden. They could unlock it –’
She stopped, for this was a development of the trend of ideas for which neither of them had apologized.
‘But even
‘I’ll find out when she comes,’ she said. ‘I’ll ask her, for indeed I feel quite an old friend already.’
‘And who’s the man?’ asked Diva.
‘Dear Mr Georgie Pillson. He entertained me so charmingly when I was at Riseholme for a night or two some years ago. They are staying at the Trader’s Arms, and off again to-morrow.’
‘What? Staying there together?’ asked Diva.
Miss Mapp turned her head slightly aside as if to avoid some faint unpleasant smell.
‘Diva dear,’ she said. ‘Old friends as we are, I should be sorry to have a mind like yours. Horrid. You’ve been reading too many novels. If widow’s weeds are not a sufficient protection against such innuendoes, a baby girl in its christening-robe wouldn’t be safe.’
‘Gracious me, I made no innuendo,’ said the astonished Diva. ‘I only meant it was rather a daring thing to do. So it is. Anything more came from your mind, Elizabeth, not mine. I merely ask you not to put it on to me, and then say I’m horrid.’
Miss Mapp smiled her widest.
‘Of course I accept your apology, dear Diva,’ she said. ‘Fully, without back-thought of any kind.’
‘But I haven’t apologized and I won’t,’ cried Diva. ‘It’s for you to do that.’
To those not acquainted with the usage of the ladies of Tilling, such bitter plain-speaking might seem to denote a serious friction between old friends. But neither Elizabeth nor Diva had any such feeling: they would both have been highly surprised if an impartial listener had imagined anything soabsurd. Such breezes, even if they grew far stronger than this, were no more than bracing airs that disposed to energy, or exercises to keep the mind fit. No malice.
‘Another cup of tea, dear?’ said Miss Mapp earnestly.
That was so like her, thought Diva: that was Elizabeth all over. When logic and good feeling alike had produced an irresistible case against her, she swept it all away, and asked you if you would have some more cold tea or cold mutton, or whatever it was.
Diva gave up. She knew she was no match for her and had more tea.
‘About our own affairs then,’ she said, ‘if that’s all settled –’
‘Yes, dear: so sweetly so harmoniously,’ said Elizabeth.
Diva swallowed a regurgitation of resentment, and went on as if she had not been interrupted.
‘– Mrs Lucas takes possession on the first of August,’ she said. ‘That’s to say, you would like to get into Wasters that day.’
‘Early that day, Diva, if you can manage it,’ said Elizabeth, ‘as I want to give my servants time to clean and tidy up. I would pop across in the morning, and my servants follow later. All so easy to manage.’
‘Then there’s another thing,’ said Diva. ‘Garden-produce. You’re leaving yours, I suppose.’
Miss Mapp gave a little trill of laughter.
‘I shan’t be digging up all my potatoes and stripping the beans and the fruit-trees,’ she said. ‘And I thought – correct me if I am wrong – that my eight guineas a week for your little house included garden-produce, which is all that really concerns you and me. I think we agreed as to that.’
Miss Mapp leant forward with an air of imparting luscious secret information, as that was settled.
‘Diva: something thrilling,’ she said. ‘I happened to be glancing out of my window just by chance a few minutes before I waved to you, and there were Mrs Lucas and Mr Pillson peering, positively peering into the windows of Mallards Cottage. I couldn’t help wondering if Mr Pillson is thinking of taking it. They seemed to be so absorbed in it. It isto let, for Isabel Poppit has taken that little brown bungalow with no proper plumbing out by the golf-links.’
‘Thrilling!’ said Diva. ‘There’s a door in the paling between that little back-yard at Mallards Cottage and your garden. They could unlock it –’
She stopped, for this was a development of the trend of ideas for which neither of them had apologized.
‘But even
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