“Are you looking for Alfred?” said Sallie, dashing past. “He’s trying on his beard in the dining room. Cousin Claire is looking everywhere for those drawing-room vases.” “I know. Thank you so much, Sallie.” “_This_ fellow is the heaviest, I should say--put him in the middle. Then these little light bits of glass--” “Oh thank you, thank you!” “Wait a minute--that isn’t quite right yet. It always saves time in the long run,” said the General impressively, “to do things in the _right_ way.” “Yes, indeed. Shall I take it now? I know Lady Flower is in a hurry.” “Did someone say Ahlfred was wanted?” Dolly inquired, also hurrying and also with her arms full. “Because I heard him say something about going off on his bicycle to fetch ...” she vanished through the door, and we only heard faintly the words ... “seems to have forgotten.” “Oh, stop him!” cried Nancy. “Do go and stop Alfred, somebody. Wait! I’ll go myself.” “Do you want Ahlfred?” said Mrs. Kendal. “Because, if so, he is on the stage. If you want Ahlfred for anything, I can go and find him for you.” “I thought you wanted to take these vase affairs to Lady Flower,” the General said rather reproachfully to Mrs. Fazackerly. “If you want Alfred, I can fetch him for you.” “Oh, thank you,” said Nancy, quite wildly, and she rushed away with the tray of vases, and Mrs. Kendal went away, too, and presently reappeared with Alfred, and then, as Nancy was no longer to be seen, let him go again, whereupon Nancy came in again by another door and immediately said: “But where’s Alfred?” That sort of thing went on all day long, and running all through my recollection of the whole, chaotic business is a sort of intermittent duet between Nancy Fazackerly and Alfred Kendal, when at last they found themselves on the same spot, at the same moment, and she was hearing him his part. “Your cue is--‘color of the sea.’” “Yes, yes. Just give me my cue, will you?” “--‘color of the sea.’” “Yes. Color of the sea. Now, what do I say? Funny thing, it’s on the very tip of my tongue. _Don’t tell me_--” “Color of--” “_Don’t_ tell me.” “I was only going to give you your cue again ‘Color of the sea’--” “‘What man can measure the heighth of the mountains? They are--’” “Didn’t Captain Patch suggest that it really makes the lines run better to say _height_?” “I _said_ height.” “Oh, did you? I’m so sorry. How stupid of me. Let’s start again ... ‘color of the sea.’” “‘What man can measure the heighth of the mountains?...’” Bill passed them once or twice, and each time he heard Alfred he groaned. By and by Martyn Ambrey, as though he had been the first person to think of it, came up to me and said: “You know, this sort of thing really won’t do. If this show is to be any good at all, we ought to pull ourselves together and have a proper rehearsal.” “‘The heighth of the mountains,’” came faintly from the far corner of the hall.