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Updated: June 5, 2025
She might just as well give it Withers, for she could no longer wear it herself, or tear the poppies from the hem and bestrew the High Street with them.... Miss Mapp's face froze into immobility again, for here, trundling swiftly towards her, was Diva herself. Diva appeared not to see her till she got quite close. "Morning, Elizabeth," she said. "Seen my Janet anywhere?" "No," said Miss Mapp.
There might be some little joke made at her expense on the effect of Grandmamma Mapp's invention if this lovely Spoonerism was published. But if she who had only just tasted the red-currant fool tripped in her speech, how amply were Major Flint's good nature and Captain Puffin's incessant laugh accounted for. She herself felt very good-natured, too. How pleasant it all was!
Miss Mapp returned exhausted about tea-time to hear from Withers that the Prince had spent an hour or more rambling about the town, and had stopped quite five minutes at the corner by the garden-room. He had actually sat down on Miss Mapp's steps and smoked a cigarette.
"I will catch Miss Mapp's," said Amelia, and all the ladies rose as if connected with some hidden mechanism which moved them simultaneously.... There was a great deal of pretty diffidence at the door, but the Contessa put an end to that. "Eldest first," she said, and marched out, making Miss Mapp, Diva and the mouse feel remarkably young.
But she was nicely placed not only with regard to her sketch, for, by peeping through the pretty foliage of the tree, she could command the front door of Mrs. Miss Mapp's plans for the bridge-party had, of course, been completely upset by the encounter with Irene in the High Street.
The endearing word froze on Miss Mapp's lips and she turned deadly white. In the doorway, in equal fury and dismay, stood Diva, dressed in precisely the same staggeringly lovely costume as her hostess. Had Diva and Miss Greele put their heads together too? Had Diva got a bit of old stuff ...? Miss Mapp pulled herself together first and moistened her dry lips.
She had not anything like Miss Mapp's genius for conjecture, but her memory was appallingly good, and this was the third morning running on which Elizabeth had gone into the grocer's. It was odd to go to your grocer's every day like that; groceries twice a week was sufficient for most people.
But what did a true Tillingite want with a butler and a motor-car? And if these were not sufficient to cast grave doubts on the sincerity of the inhabitants of "Ye Smalle House," there was still very vivid in Miss Mapp's mind that dreadful moment, undimmed by the years that had passed over it, when Mrs. Poppit broke the silence at an altogether too sumptuous lunch by asking Mrs.
That Contessa Faraglione was rather a mythical personage to Miss Mapp's mind: she was certainly not in a mediæval copy of "Who's Who?" which was the only accessible handbook in matters relating to noble and notable personages, and though Miss Mapp would not have taken an oath that she did not exist, she saw no strong reason for supposing that she did.
By eight o'clock she ought by rights to have already had her tray, dressed in some old thing; but within three minutes of her being telephoned for she had appeared in the crimson-lake, and eaten so heartily that it was impossible to imagine, greedy though she was, that she had already consumed her tray.... But in spite of Diva's adventitious triumph, the main feeling in Miss Mapp's mind was pity for her.
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