d English pantomime--clown, columbine, and so on. I
saw one when I left England at twelve years old, and it's blazed in my
brain like a bonfire ever since. I came back to the old country
only last year, and I find the thing's extinct. Nothing but a lot of
snivelling fairy plays. I want a hot poker and a policeman made into
sausages, and they give me princesses moralising by moonlight, Blue
Birds, or something. Blue Beard's more in my line, and him I like best
when he turned into the pantaloon."

"I'm all for making a policeman into sausages," said John Crook. "It's a
better definition of Socialism than some recently given. But surely the
get-up would be too big a business."

"Not a scrap," cried Blount, quite carried away. "A harlequinade's the
quickest thing we can do, for two reasons. First, one can gag to any
degree; and, second, all the objects are household things--tables and
towel-horses and washing baskets, and things like that."

"That's true," admitted Crook, nodding eagerly and walking about.
"But I'm afraid I can't have my policeman's uniform? Haven't killed a
policeman lately."

Blount frowned thoughtfully a space, and then smote his thigh. "Yes,
we can!" he cried. "I've got Florian's address here, and he knows every
costumier in London. I'll phone him to bring a police dress when he
comes." And he went bounding away to the telephone.

"Oh, it's glorious, godfather," cried Ruby, almost dancing. "I'll be
columbine and you shall be pantaloon."

The millionaire held himself stiff with a sort of heathen solemnity. "I
think, my dear," he said, "you must get someone else for pantaloon."

"I will be pantaloon, if you like," said Colonel Adams, taking his cigar
out of his mouth, and speaking for the first and last time.

"You ought to have a statue," cried the Canadian, as he came back,
radiant, from the telephone. "There, we are all fitted. Mr. Crook shall
be clown; he's a journalist and knows all the oldest jokes. I can
be harlequin, that only wants long legs and jumping about. My friend
Florian 'phones he's bringing the police costume; he's changing on the
way. We can act it in this very hall, the audience sitting on those
broad stairs opposite, one row above another. These front doors can be
the back scene, either open or shut. Shut, you see an English interior.
Open, a moonlit garden. It all goes by magic." And snatching a chance
piece of billiard chalk from his pocket, he ran it across the hall
floor,