"Exactly," I said.
Then I plucked the pick from the ground, stepped a few paces apart, and,
taking the implement with both hands, spun round and threw it from me as
if it had been a hammer.
It sailed over some lime trees and crashed out of sight into some
foliage.
Then I called the terrier and strode past my brother-in-law in the
direction of the postern.
Berry fell in behind and followed me without a word.
* * * * *
"But why," said I, "shouldn't you tell me the day of your birth? I'm not
asking the year."
"1895," said Adele.
I sighed.
"Why," she inquired, "do you want to know?"
"So that I can observe the festival as it deserves. Spend the day at
Margate, or go to a cinema, or something. I might even wear a false
nose. You never know. It's an important date in my calendar."
"How many people have you said that to?"
I laughed bitterly.
"If I told you the truth," I said, "you wouldn't believe me."
There was a museful silence.
It was three days and more since Berry and I had visited The Lawn, and
Vandy and Co. were still at work. So much had been reported by an
under-gardener. For ourselves, we had finished with our cousins for good
and all.
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