"The Smithly-Dubbs are in Town," said Sir James. "I wish youwould show them some attention. Ask them to lunch with you at theRitz or somewhere." "From the little I've seen of the Smithly-Dubbs I don't think Iwant to cultivate their acquaintance," said Lady Drakmanton. "They always work for us at election times," said her husband;"I don't suppose they influence very many votes, but they have anuncle who is on one of my ward committees, and another uncle speakssometimes at some of our less important meetings. Those sort ofpeople expect some return in the shape of hospitality." "Expect it!" exclaimed Lady Drakmanton; "the Misses Smithly-Dubbdo more than that; they almost demand it. They belong to my club,and hang about the lobby just about lunch-time, all three of them,with their tongues hanging out of their mouths and the six-courselook in their eyes. If I were to breathe the word 'lunch' theywould hustle me into a taxi and scream 'Ritz' or 'Dieudonne's' tothe driver before I knew what was happening." "All the same, I think you ought to ask them to a meal of somesort," persisted Sir James. "I consider that showing hospitality to the Smithly-Dubbs iscarrying Free Food principles to a regrettable extreme," said LadyDrakmanton; "I've entertained the Joneses and the Browns and theSnapheimers and the Lubrikoffs, and heaps of others whose names Iforget, but I don't see why I should inflict the society of theMisses Smithly-Dubb on myself for a solid hour. Imagine it, sixtyminutes, more or less, of unrelenting gobble and gabble. Why can'tyou take them on, Milly?" she asked, turning hopefully to hersister. "I don't know them," said Milly hastily. "All the better; you can pass yourself off as me. People saythat we are so alike that they can hardly tell us apart, and I'veonly spoken to these tiresome young women about twice in my life,at committee-rooms, and bowed to them in the club. Any of the clubpage-boys will point them out to you; they're always to be foundlolling about the hall just before lunch-time." "My dear Betty, don't be absurd," protested Milly; "I've gotsome people lunching with me at the Carlton to-morrow, and I'mleaving Town the day afterwards." "What time is your lunch to-morrow?" asked Lady Drakmantonreflectively. "Two o'clock," said Milly. "Good," said her sister; "the Smithly-Dubbs shall lunch with metomorrow. It shall be rather an amusing lunch-party. At least, Ishall be amused." The last two remarks she made to herself. Other people did notalways appreciate her ideas of humour. Sir James never did.
The next day Lady Drakmanton made some marked variations in herusual toilet effects. She dressed her hair in an unaccustomedmanner, and put on a hat that added to the transformation of herappearance. When she had made one or two minor alterations she wassufficiently unlike her usual smart self to produce some hesitationin the greeting which the Misses Smithly-Dubb bestowed on her inthe club-lobby. She responded, however, with a readiness which settheir doubts at rest. "What is the Carlton like for lunching in?" she askedbreezily. The restaurant received an enthusiastic recommendation from thethree sisters. "Let's go and lunch there, shall we?" she suggested, and in afew minutes' time the Smithly-Dubb mind was contemplating at closequarters a happy vista of baked meats and approved vintage. "Are you going to start with caviare? I am," confided LadyDrakmanton, and the Smithly-Dubbs started with caviare. Thesubsequent dishes were chosen in the same ambitious spirit, and bythe time they had arrived at the wild duck course it was beginningto be a rather expensive lunch. The conversation hardly kept pace with the brilliancy of themenu. Repeated references on the part of the guests to the localpolitical conditions and prospects in Sir James's constituency weremet with vague "ahs" and "indeeds" from Lady Drakmanton, who mighthave been expected to be specially interested. "I think when the Insurance Act is a little better understood itwill lose some of its present unpopularity," hazarded CeciliaSmithly-Dubb. "Will it? I dare say. I'm afraid politics don't interest me verymuch," said Lady Drakmanton. The three Miss Smithly-Dubbs put down their cups of Turkishcoffee and stared. Then they broke into protesting giggles. "Of course, you're joking," they said. "Not me," was the disconcerting answer; "I can't make head ortail of these bothering old politics. Never could, and never wantto. I've quite enough to do to manage my own affairs, and that's afact." "But," exclaimed Amanda Smithly-Dubb, with a squeal ofbewilderment breaking into her voice, "I was told you spoke soinformingly about the Insurance Act at one of our socialevenings." It was Lady Drakmanton who stared now. "Do you know," she said,with a scared look around her, "rather a dreadful thing ishappening. I'm suffering from a complete loss of memory. I can'teven think who I am. I remember meeting you somewhere, and Iremember you asking me to come and lunch with you here, and that Iaccepted your kind invitation. Beyond that my mind is a positiveblank."
The scared look was transferred with intensified poignancy tothe faces of her companions. "You asked us to lunch," they exclaimed hurriedly. That seemed amore immediately important point to clear up than the question ofidentity. "Oh, no," said the vanishing hostess, "That I do remember about.You insisted on my coming here because the feeding was so good, andI must say it comes up to all you said about it. A very nice lunchit's been. What I'm worrying about is who on earth am I? I haven'tthe faintest notion?" "You are Lady Drakmanton," exclaimed the three sisters inchorus. "Now, don't make fun of me," she replied, crossly, "I happen toknow her quite well by sight, and she isn't a bit like me. And it'san odd thing you should have mentioned her, for it so happens she'sjust come into the room. That lady in black, with the yellow plumein her hat, there over by the door." The Smithly-Dubbs looked in the indicated direction, and theuneasiness in their eyes deepened into horror. In outwardappearance the lady who had just entered the room certainly camerather nearer to their recollection of their Member's wife than theindividual who was sitting at table with them. "Who are you, then, if that is Lady Drakmanton?" they asked inpanic-stricken bewilderment. "That is just what I don't know," was the answer; "and you don'tseem to know much better than I do." "You came up to us in the club --" "In what club?" "The New Didactic, in Calais Street." "The New Didactic!" exclaimed Lady Drakmanton with an air ofreturning illumination; "thank you so much. Of course, I remembernow who I am. I'm Ellen Niggle, of the Ladies' BrasspolishingGuild. The Club employs me to come now and then and see to thepolishing of the brass fittings. That's how I came to know LadyDrakmanton by sight; she's very often in the Club. And you are theladies who so kindly asked me out to lunch. Funny how it should allhave slipped my memory, all of a sudden. The unaccustomed good foodand wine must have been too much for me; for the moment I reallycouldn't call to mind who I was. Good gracious," she broke offsuddenly, "it's ten past two; I should be at a polishing job inWhitehall. I must scuttle off like a giddy rabbit. Thanking youever so." She left the room with a scuttle sufficiently suggestive of theanimal she had mentioned, but the giddiness was all on the side ofher involuntary hostesses. The restaurant seemed to be spinninground them; and the bill when it appeared did nothing to restoretheir composure. They were as nearly in tears as it is permissibleto be during the luncheon hour in a really good
restaurant.Financially speaking, they were well able to afford the luxury ofan elaborate lunch, but their ideas on the subject of entertainingdiffered very sharply, according to the circumstances of whetherthey were dispensing or receiving hospitality. To have fedthemselves liberally at their own expense was, perhaps, anextravagance to be deplored, but, at any rate, they had hadsomething for their money; to have drawn an unknown and sociallyunremunerative Ellen Niggle into the net of their hospitality was acatastrophe that they could not contemplate with any degree ofcalmness. The Smithly-Dubbs never quite recovered from their unnervingexperience. They have given up politics and taken to doinggood.