At last Mrs. Graham-Shute, telling the lady nearest to her, in the innocence of her heart, that “if they waited about any longer the affair would be completely spoilt,” insisted on “making a move” in the direction of the barn. And, it having by this time grown quite dark, while the wind had got up, and sleet begun to fall, the whole party provided themselves with such shelter as was to hand in the shape of waterproofs and umbrellas, and started on their way across the meadow. When they reached the barn, they found the auditorium dimly lighted with a few lamps and candles, while sounds of hurrying and scuffling behind the curtains gave them a pleasing assurance that they had still some time to wait. It was very cold and very draughty, and the spirits of the miserable audience sank too low for the strains of “Il Trovatore,” arranged as a pianoforte duet, and very indifferently performed, to revive them. For it had been discovered that Chris Abercarne was the only person who could be trusted to ring the curtain up and down, and to be scene-shifter, property-master, as well as wardrobe-mistress and dresser. Therefore the local amateur musical talent had been summoned in the shape of a young lady, whose performance was of the slap-dash order, for the treble, and a young gentleman, whose forte lay in a steady thumping power, for the bass. Mrs. Graham-Shute had followed the usual rule in such small musical affairs. When in doubt play pianoforte duets. The fiction upon which this maxim is founded is probably that two bad performers are equal to one good one. Besides, there is always the chance that when one performer is wrong the other may be right, and that the sounds made by the one who is right may drown those made by the one who is wrong. “Il Trovatore” having come to an end, there was a little faint applause, and then a long interval, filled up chiefly with coughs in front of the curtain, and loud, excited whispers behind it. At last, when nobody had any hope left but the ever-buoyant Mrs. Graham-Shute, the curtain did at last wobble apart, and disclose a group of male performers, in nondescript attire, belonging to a period so vague that one could only say that it was not the present. They held in their hands sombrero hats, each adorned by a long ostrich feather; but this indication of the Stuart period was contradicted by the table-cloths which they wore round them after the fashion of the Roman toga. On a small table in the centre of the stage was a large open volume, on which the principal performer laid one hand, while he raised the other in the direction of the roof. In the bewildered audience there was a rustle of programmes, which, written out hastily by Mrs. Graham-Shute while she was “superintending” some other work, were not too legible. “Taking the _Bath_!” exclaimed a perplexed old lady plaintively, addressing Mrs. Graham-Shute, who hastened to explain that the _tableau_ was meant to illustrate “Taking the Oath.”