had
strolled across from the lock bank, and stood conning the wagon and
team. "Henley-in-Arden? O Helicon! If you'll excuse the remark, sir.
OParnassus!"

"Maybe I might," said the wagoner guardedly, "if I understood its
bearin's."

"Name redolent of Shakespeare! Of Rosalind and Touchstone, Jaques and
Amiens, sheepcrooks and venison feasts, and ballads pinned to oaks!
What shall he have who killed the deer, Mr.--?"

"'Olly," said the wagoner.

"I beg your pardon?"

"'Olly--James 'Olly and Son, Carters an' 'Auliers."

"Is it possible? . . . better and better! Sing heigho! the Holly, this
life is most jolly. I trust you find it so, Mr. Holly?"

"If you want to know," Mr. Holly answered sourly, "I don't."

"You pain and astonish me, Mr. Holly. The penalty of Adam, the season's
difference"--Mr. Mortimer turned up his furred collar--"surely, sir, you
will allow no worse to afflict you? You, a dweller on the confines of
Henley-in-Arden, within measurable distance, as I gathered?"

"Mile an' a 'arf."

"No more? O Phoebus and the Nine!"

"There _was_," said Mr. Holly, "to 'a been six. An' by consequence here
I be with a pair of 'osses an' the big wagon. Best go home-along, I
reckon, an' fetch out the cart," he grumbled, with a jerk of his thumb
indicating a red-tiled building on the hillside, half a mile away.

"Not so." Mr. Mortimer tapped his brow. "An idea occurs to me--if you
will spare me a moment to consult with my--er--partner. A Primrose
Fete, you said? I am no politician, Mr. Holly, but I understand the
Primrose League exists--primarily--or ultimately--to save our world-wide
empire. And how shall an empire stand without its Shakespeare?
Our tent and appliances will just load your wagon. As the younger Dumas
observed, 'Give me two boards, two trestles, three actors'--but the
great Aeschylus did with two--'two actors,' let us say--'and a
passion'--provided your terms are not prohibitive . . . Hi, Smiles!
Approach, Smiles, and be introduced to Thespis. His charge is three
shillings. At the price of three shillings behold, Smiles, the golden
age returned! Comedy carted home through leafy ways shall trill her
woodnotes--her native woodnotes wild--in Henley-in-Arden!"

The wagon had been packed and had departed, Mrs. Mortimer perched high
on a pile of tent cloths, and Mr. Mortimer waving farewells from the
tail-board.

The two children, left with instructions to keep near the boat and in