"Has been given the Home Office?" said Blanche, suddenly achieving an air of intelligence.
"The papers say so," said Sarah dryly. "But I don't think that excuses him."
"Or Muriel," interpolated Aunt Charlotte with venom. "What did your father say to the man?"
"He was deplorably rude, I believe—even for father. He said the man had the hide of a rhinoceros, so obviously he had tested it."
"All very amazing. It is charity to assume that Muriel is out of her mind."
"One can't be sure," said Sarah weightily. "She says he has such a good head that one day he must be Prime Minister. After all, she will be a Prime Minister's wife!"
"But a Radical Prime Minister's wife!"
"He may rat," said Sarah, with judicious optimism.
"He may," said Lady Wargrave, looking down her long nose. "But there never was a matter in which I felt less hopeful. What does your father think?"
"The man's a red rag. Don't you remember the shameful way he attacked poor father on the Land Question two years ago? What was it he called him in the House of Commons?"
"'The Great Panjandrum, with little round button on top,'" quoted the solemn Marjorie, whose chief social asset was an amazing memory.
"And after that he dares to come here!" Aunt Charlotte quivered majestically. "Didn't your father kick him downstairs?"
"I think he would have done—but for his infirmity," said Sarah judicially.
