one of the kind that
is always in this uncomfortable plight. If one day someone were to
present it with a million pounds and four billiard tables, next week we
should be asked to subscribe to a fund to buy it a bagatelle board. At
any rate, in a burst of generosity, Daphne had undertaken that we would
get up a show. When she told us of her involving promise, we were
appalled.

"A show?" gasped Jonah.

"Yes," said Berry. "You know, a show--, display. We are to exhibit us
to a horrified assembly."

"But, Daphne darling," said Jill. "What have you done?"

"It's all right," said my sister. "We can do a play. A little one,
you know, and the Merrows will help."

"Of course," said Berry. "Some telling trifle or other. Can't we
dramatize 'The Inchcape Rock'?"

"Excellent," said I. "I should like to play the abbot. It would be
rather suitable, too. If you remember, 'they blest the Abbot of
Aberbrothok."'

"Why not?" said Berry. "We could have a very fervent little scene with
them all blessing you."

"And perhaps Heath Robinson would paint the scenery."

And so on.

In the end, Berry and Jonah had constructed quite a passable little
drama, by dint of drawing largely on Dumas in the first place, and
their own imagination in the second. There were one or two strong
situations, relieved by some quite creditable light comedy, and all the
'curtains' were good. The village hall, complete with alleged stage,
was engaged, and half the county were blackmailed into taking tickets.
There were only twelve characters, of which we accounted for five, and
it was arranged that we should all twelve foregather four days
beforehand, to rehearse properly. The other seven artists were to stay
with us at White Ladies for the rehearsals and performance, and
generally till the affair had blown over.

It was ten days before the date of the production that I was cast for
Buckingham. Six days to become word perfect. When three of them had
gone, I explained to the others that, for all their jealousy, they
would find that I should succeed in getting into the skin of the part,
and that, as it was impossible to polish my study of George Villiers in
the teeth of interference which refused to respect the privacy even of
my own bedroom, I should go apart with Pomfret, and perfect my
rendering in the shelter of the countryside.

"Have pity upon our animal life!" cried Berry, when I made known my
intention. "Consider the flor