Part 12 (2/2)
”By Jove! Not a bad idea, that! Yes, take me there. I'm too splashed to be fit for the drawing-room. I say, this is no end! What a decent fire you've got!”
”You know Bevis? And this is our Cousin Clive,” said Mavis, performing the introductions.
Tudor nodded, flung himself into a basket chair and looked round the room with some amus.e.m.e.nt.
”It's like you two!” he vouchsafed. ”_I_ should never have thought of taking over the harness room! 'Pon my word, it's cosy! You won't want to turn out when I tell you what I've come for!”
”Turn out where?”
”Well, it's a long story. You see there are some new people come to live in Chagmouth--an artist with a family about a yard long. Of course, the Mater goes and calls and gushes and comes back talking about beauty and talent and all the rest of it. She's an eye to business though, has the Mater! Mr. Colville had asked her to get up a concert in aid of something or other, I don't know what it's for! The new Vicar's as bad as the old one for wanting money, and the Mater's perpetually raising the wind for the parish with entertainments. She's worked all her local stars rather hard, so you can imagine she pounced upon anybody new, and got them to promise about half the programme. She came back purring. There was the other half of the programme, though, to be fixed up. The Girl Guides had learnt a dialogue, so she said they might as well act it, and she had the posters printed and sent the school children round selling tickets.”
”Well?” said Mavis, as Tudor paused for breath.
”I'm coming to the point fast enough! It seems the princ.i.p.al characters in the dialogue are three sisters, and yesterday one of them developed measles! The other two are contact cases and, of course, they're not allowed on the boards. You can't act 'Hamlet' without the Prince of Denmark and Ophelia and Polonius! It's the same business here. The dialogue has collapsed like a p.r.i.c.ked balloon!”
”Have they no understudies?”
”Never heard of such things, and say it would take them six weeks to train any one else in the parts, besides which the others say they wouldn't dream of doing it without Gertie and Florrie or whatever their names are. The Mater sprinted round the village trying to fill up her empty programme but all her stars were huffy because they hadn't been asked before, and they said they had colds or they wanted to go to their grandmothers' funerals, or some such excuse. Back comes the Mater almost in tears and says she really doesn't know whatever she's going to do about it, and there never was such a fiasco, etc. Then Babbie suggested 'Send for Mavis and Merle, they'll help you out.' Mother jumped to it like a drowning man at a rope. So I trotted off immediately after breakfast to ask if you'll come to the rescue.”
”O-o-h! But when is the concert?”
”To-night at 7 prompt.”
”Great Scott! We can't!”
”Yes, you can! Any of those impromptu things you give will simply delight people. They've paid their s.h.i.+llings and their sixpences to see some acting and they don't mind what it's like so long as it makes them laugh and they get their money's worth. The Mater'll send the car over for you after lunch and she'll put you up for the night--you, Talland, too, and you,” nodding to Clive. ”Be sporting, all of you, and come!”
”Could we possibly get through the thing we did last night?” hesitated Mavis, looking at the others.
”Let's try,” decided Merle. ”It's all gag, Tudor, and if we get stage fright and can't go on we shall just have to walk off, that's how it is.”
”You won't do that! I say, you know, it's most awfully kind of you! The Mater will be _so_ relieved. She'd have written a note but there was some other hitch about the refreshments and she was interviewing the schoolmaster. Shall we send the car at three? Then I'd better hurry home now and set the Mater's mind at rest.”
”Wait, Tudor! We haven't asked Mother yet.”
”Oh, didn't I tell you? I met Dr. and Mrs. Ramsay in your car and stopped them, and they both said 'Go, by all means.'”
”Well, we've let ourselves in for something!” exclaimed Mavis as Tudor rode away on Armorelle. ”It was your fault, Merle!”
”No, it wasn't, it was yours! I think it will be rather fun! Cheer up, Bevis! Don't look such a scared owl! Here's old Clive absolutely peac.o.c.king at the idea.”
”If I'm to be Isabella?” grinned Clive.
”Of course, if I'm Augustus!”
”Merle--you _can't!_”
”Who says I can't? The joke of it will be that n.o.body'll know. Clive and I are the same height and really rather alike, and if we change clothes they'll all think _he's_ Augustus and _I'm_ Isabella.”
”Will anybody recognise me as Uncle Cashbags?” groaned Bevis.
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