completely lost the
most remunerative part of his business. Other carpenters sprang into
existence and took away much of the trade.

'I've no patience with him,' said Mrs Griffith, of her husband. 'He lets
these newcomers come along and just take the bread out of his hands.
Oh, if I was a man, I'd make things different, I can tell you! He
doesn't seem to care.'...

* * * * *

At last, one day George came to his mother in a state of tremendous
excitement.

'I say, mother, you know the pantomime they've got at Tercanbury this
week?'

'Yes.'

'Well, the principal boy's Daisy.'

Mrs Griffith sank into a chair, gasping.

'Harry Ferne's been, and he recognised her at once. It's all over the
town.'

Mrs Griffith, for the first time in her life, was completely at a loss
for words.

'To-morrow's the last night,' added her son, after a little while, 'and
all the Blackstable people are going.'

'To think that this should happen to me!' said Mrs Griffith,
distractedly. 'What have I done to deserve it? Why couldn't it happen to
Mrs Garman or Mrs Jay? If the Lord had seen fit to bring it upon
them--well, I shouldn't have wondered.'

'Edith wants us to go,' said George--Edith was his wife.

'You don't mean to say you're going, with all the Blackstable people
there?'

'Well, Edith says we ought to go, just to show them we don't care.'

'Well, I shall come too!' cried Mrs Griffith.

IX

Next evening half Blackstable took the special train to Tercanbury,
which had been put on for the pantomime, and there was such a crowd at
the doors that the impresario half thought of extending his stay. The
Rev. Charles Gray and Mrs Gray were there, also James, their nephew. Mr
Gray had some scruples about going to a theatre, but his wife said a
pantomime was quite different; besides, curiosity may gently enter even
a clerical bosom. Miss Reed was there in black satin, with her friend
Mrs Howlett; Mrs Griffith sat in the middle of the stalls, flanked by
her dutiful son and her daughter-in-law; and George searched for female
beauty with his opera-glass, which is quite the proper thing to do on
such occasions....

The curtain went up, and the villagers of Dick Whittington's native
place sang a chorus.

'Now she's coming,' whispered George.

All those Blackstable hearts stood still. And Daisy, as Dick
Whittington, bounded on the stage--in flesh-coloured tights, with
particularly scanty trunks,