“On Sunday nights the drawing room was ours,” said Mademoiselle Bergeret.

“Yes,” said Monsieur Bergeret. “It was there we used to play games after dinner. We used to write verses and draw pictures, and mother would play forfeits with us. Oh, the candour and simplicity of those bygone days! The simple pleasures, the charm of the old-world manners! We used to play charades; we ransacked your wardrobes, Zoe, in search of things to dress up in.”

“One day you pulled the white curtains off my bed.”

“That was to make robes for the Druids in the mistletoe scene, Zoe. The word we chose was guimauve. We were very good at charades, and Father was such a splendid audience. He did not listen to a word, but he smiled at us. I think I should have been quite a good actor, but the grown-ups neve. . . Read More