THE DERSINGHAMS AT HOME UQ

Mrs. Dersingham, who was in the bedroom, trying to
powder the space between her shoulder blades, was less
fortunate. She felt anxious. Cook had been rather
cross all day and might spoil everything, and even when
she tried, she was apt to make the soup greasy and forget
the salt in the vegetables. And Agnes, the new maid,
had pretended to understand all about serving, but she
was so stupid that she might easily go sticking vegetables
dishes under people's noses anyhow, and there was
bound to be some awful confusion when it came to clear-
ing the table for dessert. You could laugh it off, of
course, but you got so tired of laughing it off. It was a
pity this sort of thing couldn't be done properly or
laughed off altogether. How terribly tiresome it wasl
And then, too, all the time you were so worried and
anxious about the food and the serving, you were ex-
pected to be keeping the conversation going, terribly
bright and hostessy.

"I wish/' said a silly girl at the back of Mrs. Dersing-
ham's mind, a girl who had always been there but who
did not say much except when she was rather tired or
cross, "I wish I was a terribly successful actress who
lived in a marvellous little flat and had a terribly
devoted maid and a dresser and a huge car and nothing
much to eat before the performance and then went on
and was absolutely marvellous and everybody applauded
and then I put on a wonderful Russian sable coat and
diamonds and went out to supper and everybody stared.
No, I don't. I wish I was a terrible successful woman
writer with a villa somewhere on the Riviera with
orange trees and mimosa and things and lunch in the
sunshine and marvellous distinguished people coming
to call No, I don't. I wish I was terribly rich with a