MISS MATFIELD WONDERS 227

because he had read a great many bad stones or because
the stories were nearer the truth than one thought and
were worked up, on the fringes of Empire, out of men
like Major AnsdelL

Miss Matfield hung back and saw the Ansdells greet
one another and then go upstairs, obviously to Evelyn's
room. There was no talking to Major Ansdell in a
public room; he was far too fond of a scene and was not
at all shy. Miss Matfield went into the lounge, to smoke
a cigarette, and spent an envious ten minutes glancing
through one of those illustrated weeklies that seem to be
produced simply to glorify that small section of society
which works only to keep itself amused. It showed her
photographs of these demigods and goddesses racing and
hunting in the cold places, bathing and lounging in the
warm places, and eating and drinking and swaggering
in places of every temperature. By the time she had
finished her cigarette, Miss Matfield quite understood
the temptation to start a revolution, and told herself
that these papers simply asked for one. Then she, too,
went upstairs to her room.

She had not been there more than a few minutes when
Evelyn Ansdell burst in, crying: "My dear, Mother's on
the phone. Do go in and talk to Father until I come
back. If you don't, he'll come down and do something
absurd. I'll be as quick as I can." And off she went.

Evelyn's bedroom seemed almost entirely filled by her
father, who welcomed his daughter's friend-and Miss
Matfield felt herself thrust into the part of daughter's
friend at once—with his usual grave and elaborate
courtesy. He was, she felt, enjoying himself, and was
probably the only man who ever had enjoyed himself
visiting the Burpenfield. He addressed her as "Miss