Epilogue

"WE OUGHT to order some papers," said Edmund to Phillipa upon the day of their return to Chipping Cleghorn after the honeymoon. "Let's go along to Tot- man's."

Mr. Totman, a heavy-breathing, slow-moving man, received them with affability. "Glad to see you back, sir. And madam."

"We want to order some papers."

"Certainly, sir. And your mother is keeping well, I hope? Quite settled down at Bournemouth?"

"She loves it," said Edmund who had not the faintest idea whether this was so or not, but like most sons, preferred to believe that all was well with those loved, but frequently irritating beings, parents.

"Yes, sir. Very agreeable place. Went there for my holiday last year. Mrs. Totman enjoyed it very much."

"I'm glad. About papers, we'd like----"

"And I hear you have a play on in London, sir. Very amusing so they tell me."

"Yes, it's doing very well."

"Called Elephants Do Forget, so I hear. You'll excuse me, sir, asking you, but I always thought that they didn't---forget, I mean."

"Yes---yes, exactly---I've begun to think it was a mistake calling it that. So many people have said just what you say."

"A kind of natural history fact, I've always understood."

"Yes---yes. Like earwigs making good mothers."

"Do they indeed, sir? Now that's a fact I didn't know."

"About the papers----"

"The Times, sir, I think it was?" Mr. Totman paused with pencil uplifted.

"The Daily Worker," said Edmund firmly, "And the Daily Telegraph," said Phillipa. "And the New Statesman," said Edmund. "The Radio Times," said Phillipa. "The Spectator," said Edmund. "The Gardener's Chronicle," said Phillipa. They both paused to take breath.

"Thank you, sir," said Mr. Totman. "And the Gazette, I suppose?"

"No," said Edmund. "No," said Phillipa. "Excuse me, you do want the Gazette?"

"No, we don't."

"Certainly not."

"You don't want the North Benham News and Chipping Cleghorn Gazette?"

"No."

"You don't want me to send it along to you every week?"

"No." Edmund added: "Is that quite clear now?"

"Oh, yes, sir---yes."

Edmund and Phillipa went out, and Mr. Totman padded into his back parlour. "Got a pencil, Mother?" he said. "My pen's run out."

"Here you are," said Mrs. Totman, seizing the order book. "I'll do it. What do they want?"

"Daily Worker, Daily Telegraph---Radio Times, New Statesman, Spectator---let me see---Gardener's Chronicle"---"Gardener's Chronicle," repeated Mrs. Totman, writing busily. "And the Gazette?"

"They don't want the Gazette."

"What?"

"They don't want the Gazette. They said so."

"Nonsense," said Mrs. Totman. "You don't hear properly. Of course they want the Gazette! Everybody has the Gazette. How else would they know what's going on round here?"

THE END