Since the first shock of the threatened break-up of the tour Kate had gradually grown accustomed to the idea and now wept in silence. Without precisely suffering from any pangs of fear for the future, an immense sadness seemed to ache within her very bones. All things were passing away. The flock of girls in whose midst she had lived was gone; a later train would take Mortimer to London; Bret was bidding them good-bye; Beaumont was consulting a Bradshaw. How sad it seemed! The theatre and artists were vanishing into darkness like a dream. Not a day, nor an hour, could she see in front of her. 'What shall we do now?' she whispered to Dick, as she trotted along by his side. 'Well, I haven't quite made up my mind. I was thinking last night that it wouldn't be a bad idea to make up a little entertainment--four or five of us--and see what we could do in the manufacturing towns. Lancashire is, you know, honeycombed with them. Our travelling expenses would amount to a mere nothing. We must have someone to operate on the piano. I wonder if Montgomery would care about coming with us.' Kate thought that he would, and as she happened at that moment to catch sight of the long tails of the Newmarket coat at the other side of the station, she begged Dick to call to the erratic musician. No sooner was the proposition put forward than it was accepted, and in five minutes they were at luncheon in a 'pub,' arranging the details of the entertainment. 'We shall want an agent-in-advance, a bill-poster, or something of that kind,' said Montgomery. 'I've thought of that,' replied Dick; 'Williams is our man, he'll see to all that; and I don't know if you know, but he can sing a good song on his own account.' 'Can he? Well, then, we can't have anyone better--and what shall we take out?' 'Well, we must have a little operetta, and I don't think we can do better than Offenbach's _Breaking the Spell_.' 'Right you are,' said Montgomery, pulling out his pocket-book. '_Breaking the Spell_, so far so good; now we must have a song or a character sketch to follow, and I don't think it would be a bad idea if we rehearsed a comedietta. What do you say to _The Happy Pair_?' 'Right you are, pencil it down, can't do better, it always goes well; and then I can sing between "The Men of Harlech."' Montgomery looked a little awry at the idea of having to listen to 'The Men of Harlech,' sung by Dick, but in the discussion that followed as to what Kate was to do, 'The Men of Harlech' was forgotten.