THE DERSINGHAMS AT HOME

The Dersinghams, standing together now on their
bearskin rug, heard the first guest arrive. It must be
either Golspie or the Trapes. It could not be the
Pearsons, who, living in the maisonette above, always
waited until they heard someone else arrive below, be-
fore they made their appearance. And Golspie it was,
looking strangely unfamiliar to Mr. Dersingham in a
rather voluminous dinner jacket and a very narrow
black tie. He had hardly been introduced to Mrs.
Dersingham before the Pearsons, who were just as
anxious not to be late as they were not to be first, came
in, breathless and smiling.

"A-ha, good evening!" cried Mr. Pearson; as if he
had found them out,

"And how are you, my dear?" cried Mrs. Pearson to
her hostess, in such a tone of voice that nobody would
have imagined that they had met less than four hours

ago.

The Pearsons were a middle-aged, childless couple,
who had recently retired from Singapore. Mr. Pearson
was a tallish man, with a long thin neck on which was
perched a pear-shaped head. His cheeks were absurdly
plump, a sharp contrast to all the rest of him, so that
he always appeared to have just blown them out. He
was both nervous and amiable, and consequently he
laughed a great deal at nothing in particular, and the
sound he made when he laughed can only be set down
as Tee-tee-tee-tee-tee. Mrs. Pearson, who was altogether
plump, had her face framed in a number of mysterious
dark curls, and looked vaguely like one of the musical
comedy actresses of the picture post-card era, one who
had perhaps retired, after queening it in The Catch
oj the Season, to keep a jolly boarding-house. They