There was one problem for Felicity.

Condition number two.

“The oak doors?” she said at the next committee meeting. “Those ugly old things? Why on earth would a millionaire care about the doors?”

“It's a condition of the gift, Felicity,” said Gerald. “If we don't use them, we don't get the money.”

“It'll ruin the whole design! The architect's drawn glass doors!”

“Then the architect will have to draw oak ones.”

Felicity argued for twenty minutes. In the end, she gave in. She had no choice.

“Fine,” she snapped. “We'll use the wretched doors. But I'm going to write to the donor and suggest something about the name. They clearly don't know the village. They'll need guidance.”

She wrote to Mr Fenwick that week. Gerald saw the letter.

She suggested, very politely, that since she'd worked so hard to secure the gift, the donor might like to consider naming the building the Harrington Hall.

Mr Fenwick's reply was one line long.

Thank you. The donor has already chosen a name.