e of thanks, insinuated
something "anent a more ambitious undertaking, in which (if we can
only engage Lady Shaftesbury's active sympathy) we may realise a
cherished dream. I fear," proceeded Mr. Colt, "that I am a sturdy
beggar. I can only plead that the cause is no mere local one, but in
the truest sense national--nay imperial. For where but in the story
of Merchester can be found the earliest inspiration of those
countless deeds which won the Empire?"

Later, when Lady Shaftesbury asked to what he alluded, he discoursed
on the project of the Pageant with dexterity and no little tact.

"What a ripping idea! . . . Now I come to remember, my husband _did_
say casually, the other day, that Mr. Bamberger had been sounding him
about something of the sort. But Jack is English, you know, and a
Whig at that. The mere notion of dressing-up or play-acting makes
him want to run away and hide. . . . Oh, my dear sir, I know all
about pageants! I saw one at Warwick Castle--was it last year or the
year before? . . . There was a woman on horseback--I forget what
historical character she represented: it wasn't Queen Elisabeth,
I know, and it couldn't have been Lady Godiva because--well, because
to begin with, she knew how to dress. She wore a black velvet habit,
with seed-pearls, which sounds like Queen Henrietta Maria.
Anyway, everyone agreed she had a perfect seat in the saddle.
Is that the sort of thing--'Fair Rosamund goes a-hawking with King,
er, Whoever-he-was?'"

Mr. Colt regretted that Fair Rosamund had no historical connection
with Merchester. . . . No, and equally out of the question was Mary,
Queen of Scots laying her neck on the block.

"Besides, she couldn't very well do that on horseback. And Maseppa
was a man, wasn't he?"

"If," said Mr. Colt diplomatically, "we can only prevail upon one or
two really influential ladies to see the thing in that light, details
could be arranged later. We have not yet decided on the Episodes.
. . . But notoriously where there's a will there's a way."

Lady Shaftesbury pondered this conversation while her new car whirled
her homewards. She had begun to wish that Jack (as she called her
lord) would strike out a bolder line in county affairs, if his
ambition confined him to these. He was already (through no search of
his own) Chairman of the County Council, and Chairman of Quarter
Sessions, and was pricked to serve as High Sheriff next year.
He ought to do something t