"Rather!" exclaimed Cornelius James, all his martial instincts aroused by the reference to man-eaters, but quite at a loss as to what was expected of him. "Course we'll help," echoed Georgina, with something nearer comprehension. "Well, then, you must just pretend I'm your father." "What fun!" cried Jane, and they rose as the door opened and the Misses Smedley stood, somewhat taken aback, on the threshold. "How d'you do," said Graeme advancing. "I hope you don't mind a schoolroom tea round the dining-table, but the fact is, I--when the children are here--we always have tea together." The Misses Smedley bowed confusedly to Miss Mayne. "We won't stop, ta fearfully all the same--we only wanted to ask you to act in some theatricals," said Josephine; "they're next week, and we're in a tearing hurry. Think it over and let us know as soon as you can." "_I_," said Graeme. "Do you mean you want _me_ to act?" He turned to the party round the table. "Children, can you imagine your father acting in amateur theatricals?" The response was an outburst of unbridled merriment, in course of which Cornelius James, seated next to Miss Mayne, upset his teacup. The Misses Smedley took advantage of the ensuing confusion to beat a retreat. "Well," said Alicia, "we just popped in on the off-chance you would, don't you know, being next-door neighbours, and all that kind of thing. Now we must fly off and beat up someone else." Her insolent eyes roved round the table. She appeared to be preoccupied with some mental arithmetical calculation. "Won't you have some tea first?" said Miss Mayne. The instant she had spoken she regretted it, but the intimacy of the afternoon, the feeling of knowing almost as much about the house and its contents as the owners, perhaps some faint promptings of loyalty to her sex, produced a spontaneous offer of hospitality that she knew was not hers to make. "No, thanks really," said Josephine, already in retreat. "We haven't time now. Good-bye, and do try to persuade your husband to help us with these wretched theatricals." Graeme and Miss Mayne stared blankly at each other. Through the open window came the sound of a car being cranked furiously. The children's faces were eyeing their elders as if uncertain how to take this unexpected turn of events. "They don't really eat men, do they?" said the awed voice of Cornelius James. "You don't honestly think----" began Miss Mayne, her colour once more supplanting her smile. "Oh, couldn't you tell them--run out and say I--we----" Graeme hastened after the visitors with belated promptings of conscience and the laws of hospitality, but before he reached the hall the splutter of gravel and the hum of the engine told the listeners in the dining-room he was too late. "He's waving good-bye," said Alicia, as the car swerved and rocked down the avenue, looking back and brandishing her gloves.