"Guilty, my lord!" replied the criminal resignedly. "Well, you are let off with a caution," said Joan graciously, "but you'll have to come, all the same. You _will_, won't you, Hughie?" "Will my presence make so much difference?" said Hughie, rather boldly for him. He was inviting a heavy snub, and he knew it. Joan raised her eyes to his for a moment. "Yes," she said, rather unexpectedly, "it will." "Then I'll come," said Hughie, with vigour. "I go to the dentist at ten. I'll get that over, ask Lance to lunch, and come down by the afternoon train. What time does the show begin?" "Eight." "The train gets in at seven-fifty. I'll come straight to the Parish Hall--" "You'll get no dinner," said Joan in warning tones. "Never mind!" said Hughie heroically. "There's to be a supper afterwards, isn't there?" "Yes." "I'll last out, then. By the way, does it matter if I'm not in evening kit?" "Not a bit, if you don't mind yourself. Of course the front rows will be full of people with their glad rags on," said Joan. "But if you feel shy, come round behind the scenes. Then you'll be able to keep an eye on me--and Mr. Haliburton!" she added, with a provocative little glance. * * * * * Hughie duly departed to town, promising faithfully to come back for the theatricals, and wondering vaguely why Joan had insisted so strongly on his doing so. Joan felt rather inclined to wonder herself. She was a little perplexed by her own impulses at present. But her mind was occupied by some dim instinct of self-preservation, and she felt somehow distinctly happier when Hughie promised to come. However, there was little time for introspection. Rehearsals--"with the accent on the hearse," as Mr. Binks remarked during one protracted specimen--were dragging their slow length along to a conclusion; tickets were selling like hot cakes; and presently the great day came. Amateur theatricals are a weariness to the flesh, but viewed in the right spirit they are by no means destitute of entertainment. The drama's laws, as interpreted by the amateur, differ materially from those observed by the professional branch--the members of which, it must be remembered, have to please to live--in several important particulars; and with these the intending playgoer should at once make himself conversant. Here is a _précis_:-- (1) Remember that the performance has been got up entirely for the benefit of the performers, and that you and the rest of the audience have merely been brought in to make the thing worth while. (2) Abandon all hope of punctuality at the start or reasonability in the length of the intervals. Amateur scene-shifters and musicians do not relish having their "turns" curtailed any more than the more conspicuous members of the cast.