II

They came into the room and paused at the doorway¹.

Simeon was speaking into the telephone. He waved a hand to them.

“Sit down, all of you. I shan’t be a minute.”

He went on speaking into the telephone.

“Is that Charlton, Hodgkins & Bruce? Is that you, Charlton? Simeon Lee speaking. Yes, isn’t

it? . . . Yes . . . No, I wanted you to make a new will for me . . . Yes, it’s some time since I made

the other . . . Circumstances have altered . . . Oh no, no hurry. Don’t want you to spoil your

Christmas. Say Boxing Day or the day after. Come along, and I’ll tell you what I want done. No,

that’s quite all right. I shan’t be dying just yet.”

He replaced the receiver, then looked round at the eight members of his family. He cackled

and said:

“You’re all looking very glum². What is the matter?”

Alfred said: “You sent for us. . . .”

Simeon said quickly: “Oh, sorry—nothing portentous³ about it. Did you think it was a family

council? No, I’m just rather tired today, that’s all. None of you need come up after dinner. I shall

go to bed. I want to be fresh for Christmas Day.”

He grinned at them. George said earnestly:

“Of course . . . of course. . . .”

Simeon said: “Grand old institution, Christmas. Promotes solidarity⁴ of family feeling. What

do you think, Magdalene, my dear?”

Magdalene Lee jumped. Her rather silly little mouth flew open and then shut itself. She said:

“Oh—oh, yes!”

Simeon said: “Let me see, you lived with a retired⁵ naval⁶ officer”—he paused—“your father.

Don’t suppose you made much of Christmas. It needs a big family for that!”

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