Elspeth, half-hidden by delphiniums, peered gravely at the butter knife Richard was attempting to spirit away in the interior pocket of his much-worn jacket. ‘That’s wicked, Richard,’ she intoned. At this unexpected remonstrance, he started and the errant butter knife clattered onto the floor. The company looked up. The clock ticked in the hallway. Young Herbert watched a bird perched outside on the windowsill; sliding gracelessly out of his chair, he pressed his nose against the window. The bird flew away. ‘What has Richard done now, Elspeth?’ Isobel asked. ‘He tried to steal a butter knife,’ Elspeth calmly replied.