There was a stir, a gathering disturbance in the audience. Suddenly the rustling and whispering concentrated in the centre of the second row. In the darkness Teddy thought he saw a great moving shadow. What could it be? Someone was talking, forgetting to whisper. Someone was arguing. An usher opened the door into the lobby and held it; someone was going out. The electric light streamed in from the back, near Teddy, and illuminated the majestic form of Mrs. Montgomery Pearson, walking out of the door. She walked like a sacred elephant, and her jet necklace swung back and forth across her armoured bosom. She moved slowly, with upheld nose but downcast eyes, into the pure air of the outer night; after her, blinking a little and stooping more than usual beneath the horrid burden of so many astounded stares, Mr. Montgomery Pearson followed with her shawl. The door swung shut behind them and the house was in darkness again. Only the red light persisted, shining on the imperturbable Phil, who went on dancing. Teddy managed to get backstage just as the act ended. Back there they were not taking it as humorously as he had expected. Phil came off the stage in a fit of hysteria and everyone was comforting him. The place was in a mess: everyone was indulging in the luxury of indignation, and Teddy leaped into the middle of it until the stage-manager extricated him and sent him forth to calm down the performers. Bob was the most militant: he was all for sending the Pearsons out of town by official order from the Mayor. “I can see the humour of it as quickly as anyone can, my dear boy,” he explained to Teddy, “but damn it, we must protect the colony. What’s to happen to free speech and all that if we allow the bigots to criticize us?” “I’ll start circulating a petition tomorrow,” said Gwen. “Teddy, remind me of it in the morning.” “Teddy,” said the stage-manager, “see if you can’t make the property men get down to work. I promised the undertaker that he can have the chairs back in time for a bridge party tomorrow.” “That reminds me,” Mrs. Saville-Sanders said, “that I want to talk to you when you have a moment to spare, Teddy.” Phil plucked at his arm and asked him feebly if it would be wise to bring action for libel. Bob thought that it would, and walked off with him, saying, “I’ll give you the address of my attorney in Albuquerque.” “Before I forget,” Mrs. Saville-Sanders persisted, “I want to ask you to be sure to come to my bridge on the eleventh, Teddy. Don’t forget, will you? I shall count on you. And I wanted to say that you’ve been a dear boy and a great help tonight. I don’t know what we should have done without you.” She turned to Bob, who had come back. “That’s a nice boy,” she added. His heart bounded in triumph. The accolade at last! “Teddy! Come here a minute, will you? Someone has got to help me pack up the costumes.”