the neck of lamb

"Go on, please go on," he urged. "Let's imagine it's a Wednesday. 　　You're all at luncheon. You sit there, and Aunt Lucy there,and Aunt Clara here"; he arranged three pebbles on the grassbetween them. 　　"Aunt Clara carves the neck of lamb," Rachel continued. 　　She fixed her gaze upon the pebbles. "There's a very ugly yellowchina stand in front of me, called a dumb waiter, on which arethree dishes, one for biscuits, one for butter, and one for cheese. 　　There's a pot of ferns. Then there's Blanche the maid, who snufflesbecause of her nose. We talk--oh yes, it's Aunt Lucy's afternoonat Walworth, so we're rather quick over luncheon. She goes off. 　　She has a purple bag, and a black notebook. Aunt Clara haswhat they call a G.F.S. meeting in the drawing-room on Wednesday,so I take the dogs out. I go up Richmond Hill, along the terrace,into the park. It's the 18th of April--the same day as it is here. 　　It's spring in England. The ground is rather damp. However, I crossthe road and get on to the grass and we walk along, and I singas I always do when I'm alone, until we come to the open placewhere you can see the whole of London beneath you on a clear day. 　　Hampstead Church spire there, Westminster Cathedral over there,and factory chimneys about here. There's generally a haze over the lowparts of London; but it's often blue over the park when London'sin a mist. It's the open place that the balloons cross going overto Hurlingham. They're pale yellow. Well, then, it smells very good,particularly if they happen to be burning wood in the keeper's lodgewhich is there. I could tell you now how to get from place to place,and exactly what trees you'd pass, and where you'd cross the roads.