"I wish Miss Strange would play for me at my entertainment at the schools next week," said Mr. Pryor plaintively. "Won't you be persuaded, Miss Strange?" "I'll play for you now if you like," she answered, "but you know my uncle won't let me play at the penny readings. And really it is no loss, I am nothing of a musician." The vicar sighed and looked across at Mr. Hayes. "I wish he would!" he said. "Couldn't you persuade him? I can't get the programme arranged properly." "Why, haven't you got the usual people?" "Yes, yes, I have got the usual people. But perhaps," said Mr. Pryor, not unreasonably, "it would be as well to have something a little different--a little new, you know. It is extremely kind of them, but the audience, the back benches, don't you know?--Well, I suppose they like variety." Barbara looked gravely sympathetic. "And it's rather awkward," Mr. Pryor continued, "young Dickson at the mill has some engagement that evening, and won't be able to sing 'Simon the Cellarer,' unless I put it the first thing." "Why, he sings nothing else!" Miss Strange exclaimed. "Yes, he _does_ know two other songs, I believe, but they are, in my opinion, too broadly comic for such an entertainment as this. He hummed a little bit of one in my study one evening, in a _very_ subdued manner, of course, just to give me an idea. I saw at once that it would never do. I stopped him directly, but I found myself singing the very objectionable words about the parish for days. Not _aloud_, you know, not _aloud_!" Mr. Pryor looked sternly over the top of Miss Strange's head, and pressed his lips so tightly together that she was quite sure he was singing Mr. Harry Dickson's objectionable song to himself at that very moment. "But why shouldn't he sing 'Simon the Cellarer' at the beginning just as well as at the end?" she questioned. "Yes," said the vicar, "but there is my little reading, of course that must come in early--my position as the clergyman of the parish, you see. And I thought of something a little improving, a short reading out of a volume of selections I happen to have, 'Simon the Cyrenian'." "Why, you read that before," Barbara began, and then stopped and coloured. "Yes, yes," said Mr. Pryor, "I did, but I don't think they paid much attention, the back benches were rather noisy that evening, and it is a nice length, and seems very suitable. But the difficulty is how to keep 'Simon the Cellarer' and 'Simon the Cyrenian' apart on the programme. I don't know how it is to be managed, I'm sure. I thought perhaps you would play us something appropriate between the song and the reading. I'm afraid some of the audience may smile." Reynold took his arm from the chimney-piece. "Appropriate to both Simons?" he inquired. "Yes, just so, to both Simons. At least, not exactly that, but something by way of a transition, I suppose." "I wonder what that would be like," Barbara speculated. "I'm really very sorry I can't help you, Mr. Pryor."