Then everybody, anxious to get home to eat the dinners which would, undoubtedly, be spoiling, made a rush for Mrs. Graham-Shute, and told her they had enjoyed themselves _so_ much, and that the _tableaux_ were _beautifully_ done, and that she must be quite proud to have such clever daughters, and such a clever son. And Mrs. Graham-Shute, quite happy, said, in her best Bayswater manner, that she thought they were rather good, “considering they were got up quite in a hurry, you know, and with no help at all.” And she kindly added that she was coming to live at Wyngham, and that she would get up “a lot more things” when she had settled down among the delighted inhabitants. In the meantime, Lilith, who had had an opportunity, while posing as one of the beauties in the marriage-market, to survey the audience as well as the dim lights would allow, was running to Chris in great excitement. “Do you know who the very handsome man is, sitting near the door?” she asked eagerly. Chris, who was tired out, and past interest in mundane affairs, answered, wearily, that she did not know anybody, that if there was a handsome man among the audience he didn’t belong to Wyngham, where there were only ugly ones. Then Rose, who was present, spoke sedately: “Oh, you don’t know Lilith, Miss Abercarne! She’s always in love with somebody or other, and as she’s had time to forget the man she was in love with when we left town, she is obliged to fall in love with somebody here to fill up the time.” However, Chris could give no information, and would not interest herself in the matter. Her head ached; she had been too hard at work to spare the time for a proper luncheon, but had had a sandwich brought out to her, which she had scarcely found time to eat. Nobody had thought of bringing her a cup of tea. She had promised her mother, who was in dread lest the barn should be set on fire, as the result of the afternoon’s entertainment, not to leave the building until everybody else had gone away, and a servant had been sent to put out the lights. While the performers were changing their dress, therefore, in the screened-off spaces on either side of the stage, which had been fitted up as dressing-rooms, she occupied herself in putting out such of the footlights as had not put themselves out, and in taking down the curtains and folding them up. By the time this was done, the performers were leaving the building in a body, tired and rather cross, smarting as they were with the sense that the whole thing had been something like a failure, and that they had not been well treated by somebody. Donald, who had not dared to come near Chris since the severe snub he had received on the previous day, hung about for a brief space in the rear of the rest, talking loudly, though somewhat vaguely, and pushing about the chairs, in the hope of attracting her attention.