"My bike's smashed. I lent it to my wretched small brother, and he ran into a hand-cart. That's what children do if you're silly enough to lend them things. It's carrying the violin to school that makes my arm ache." "Why don't you leave it here?" "Because I want to practise in the evenings, of course." "Then I can't help you, my child. You'll have to be content with the honour and glory of playing in the school orchestra, and put up with the inconveniences. You can't eat your cake and have it." "Oh, don't preach. _You'd_ growl yourself if you had such a tramp." "I daresay I should." Those girls who were taking part in the song-drama were naturally much concerned about costumes. They spoke of nothing else, in season or out of season. Miss Lightwood, the stage manageress, was determined to have everything strictly in keeping and to prevent any anachronisms. It was a difficult matter however to decide exactly what articles were or were not worn in the Celtic Ireland of about 200 B.C., and there were many discussions on debatable points. "The one thing we're perfectly certain about," said Marjorie Johns, "is that they wore heaps of jewellery. Everybody who was anybody at all seemed to have a necklet and a coronet and an immense brooch made of gold. How are we going to get all these?" "We can't," sighed Phillis, hunting ruefully through the typed list of a theatrical provider, "the prices for hiring them nowadays are simply wicked. I call it profiteering. Just look here: _Per night._ Celtic torc or necklace 15_s._ 0_d._ Inset imitation rubies 18_s._ 0_d._ Chaplet, Celtic design 17_s._ 6_d._ Jewelled 21_s._ 6_d._ Why, we should be ruined, absolutely ruined, if we hired for the whole company." "It can't be done," agreed Marjorie, "and yet" (wistfully) "they'd look so lovely. The show won't be really Celtic and mystical and song-drama-y without them. I could sing twice as well if I wore a torc and a chaplet. Yes, Lesbia Ferrars, you needn't laugh! I _know_ I should. It's my artistic temperament cropping out. Some people may be able to sing on a bare platform, without any scenery or fancy costumes, but they sound just about as inspired as gramophones or pianolas. If I'm to imagine myself 'Etaire' I must have her jewels. I couldn't be a Celtic princess without them. If you laugh again, Lesbia, I'll go for you." "Is that part of your artistic temperament? There, old sport, I'm not laughing. Not _really_. Only in sympathy. I've got a suggestion to make. I was looking through Miss Lightwood's book on _Celtic Art_--the one she took the costumes from--and I suddenly had a brain-wave. There are whole chapters on Celtic jewellery, with lovely illustrations. I'm sure I could copy some of the ornaments in cardboard and gilt paper. Seen from a distance they'd pass muster and be better than nothing."