The explosions.
The polite apologies of the host's wife as the host's sister insisted on measuring the blast radius.
The gentle acknowledgement from the host's Captain that he quite understood the situation and could he possibly have another cup of that excellent tea.
The rhythmic chanting of the household servants as they hauled out the lawn roller and endeavoured to restore a smooth surface.
The pleasant murmur of conversation, gossip, and outright scandal.
Laughter.
And, after dark, the fireworks.
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