"Marvellous old furniture," said Nyla.
"I'm not looking at the furniture. I'm hunting for a box of matches. I think I'll go out in the garden and have a smoke."
A stir in the hall caught Nyla's attention.
"Oh look, Daddy, our things have come." Through the tall glass doors she could see a troop of servants lined up respectfully to receive their very modest and shabby luggage, the portmanteaux and the battered tin trunk. She caught a glimpse of a familiar old brown satchel.
"I wish we had bought some new bags, it looks too absurd to see them all making such to-do over our poor old things. Your old satchel looks too awful."
"My satchel?" he said. "Is it there? Just what I need. There's a"
"Now Daddy, what are you going to do? You mustn't"
But he sped into the hall where he surprised the assembled flunkeys by seizing the bag. Muttering some unintelligible explanation, he
