s. Don't tell me what you were thinking, my dear. It
can't be expressible in polite language.

Perkins. You are wrong there, my dear. I wasn't thinking cuss-words
at all. I was only reflecting that we didn't miss much anyhow, under
the circumstances.

Mrs. Perkins. Miss much? Why, Thaddeus, what _do_ you mean?

Perkins. Nothing--only that for action continuous and situations
overpowering The Lyons Mail isn't a marker to an evening of
preparation for Amateur Dramatics.

Enter Jennie.

Jennie. Excuse me, mim, but the coachman says shall he wait any
longer? He's been there three hours now.

[CURTAIN]

THE FATAL MESSAGE

CHARACTERS:

MR. THADDEUS PERKINS, in charge of the curtain.
MRS. THADDEUS PERKINS, cast for Lady Ellen.
MISS ANDREWS, cast for the maid.
MR. EDWARD BRADLEY, an under-study.
MRS. EDWARD BRADLEY, cast for Lady Amaranth.
MR. ROBERT YARDSLEY, stage-manager.
MR. JACK BARLOW, cast for Fenderson Featherhead.
MR. CHESTER HENDERSON, an absentee.
JENNIE, a professional waitress.

The scene is laid in the library of the Perkins mansion, on the
afternoon of the day upon which an amateur dramatic performance is to
be held therein. The Perkins house has been given over to the
dramatic association having the matter in charge. At right of
library a scenic doorway is hung. At left a drop-curtain is
arranged, behind which is the middle hall of the Perkins dwelling,
where the expected audience are to sit. The unoccupied wall spaces
are hung with paper-muslin. The apartment is fitted up generally to
resemble an English drawing-room; table and chair at centre. At rear
stands a painted-canvas conservatory entrance, on left of which is a
long oaken chest. The curtain rising discovers Mrs. Perkins giving a
few finishing touches to the scene, with Mr. Perkins gazing curiously
about the room.

Perkins. Well, they've transformed this library into a scene of
bewitching beauty--haven't they? These paper-muslin walls are a
dream of loveliness. I suppose, as the possessor of all this, I
ought to be supremely happy--only I wish that canvas conservatory
door hadn't been tacked over my reference-books. I want to look up
some points about--

Mrs. Perkins. Oh, never mind your books, Thaddeus; it's only for one
night. Can't you take a minute's rest?

Perkins. One night? I like that. It's been there two already, and
it's in for to-night, and all day to-morrow, I suppose. It'll take
all