Ian Hay

“ As for the Cradocks, Joan was taciturn but observant, Molly was inclined to be a little tearful over Denny, while Denny was sentimentally engrossed with Gwen. Uncle Tony, whom long experience had trained to take life as he found it, sat upon a folded newspaper smoking a cigar, and hoping for nothing worse on the morrow than a slight stiffness of the joints. Mildred Cradock alone seemed to be enjoying herself. But then she always did: everybody knew that. ”

“ We have one every night. Let’s start now. Come on, Bingo; get a move on!’
An hour later the punt and the canoe, relieved of the ostentatious companionship of the motor-launch, were drifting amicably down Ripleigh Reach, within easy conversational distance of one another, in the gloaming of a September evening. Uncle Tony and Joan shared the canoe, while Mildred, with Molly’s head in her lap, reclined restfully in the punt, whose course her son, seated in the stern, was lazily directing with a paddle. ”

“ Bagby.
‘Twenty-five to seven,’ replied Denny, with a careless glance at his new wrist-watch.
‘Oh dear, I didn’t know it was so late! I must get home at once. I like to give myself a full hour to dress in the evening.’
‘I am so sorry,’ said Mildred. ‘I would have warned you sooner if I had known. Suppose you take your own launch, and leave my little band to follow in the boats. We are in no hurry: we are only going back to a cold supper.’
‘We,’ announced Little Leo with simple dignity, ‘are going back to a hot dinner. ”