“I!” he exclaimed. “Great goodness! Fancy me attempting to recite! Why, I should have stage fright, and fall in a fit off the platform!” and he laughed. “Now, Faradeane here is a first-class amateur actor, and used to all this kind of thing----” He pulled up short, warned by Faradeane’s grave, steady gaze, and Olivia’s look of astonishment. “That is, I should think so,” said poor Bertie. “He looks like it, while I----Oh! the mere thought of facing a room full of people sends cold shivers through me.” He had not got out of it so badly after all, and, quite unwittingly, Miss Amelia helped. “Really,” she simpered, surveying the handsome face, with its grave smile, “really, I think Bertie is right, and that Mr. Faradeane has--er--that kind of face, and I am sure he will not refuse to help us in our effort to amuse our humbler neighbors.” “And air our own accomplishments,” added Olivia, with a smile. “My dear Olivia----” began Miss Amelia, with her severest air; but Bertie cut in again. “I think you’d better, Faradeane,” he said; “that is, if you can, and I think you have got the reciter’s face. Something awfully tragic, you know.” “Such as ‘The Little Vulgar Boy,’ or ‘The Jackdaw of Rheims,’” murmured Miss Amelia, coaxingly. “Some people insist that they are too frivolous; but I maintain, and always shall maintain, that we may draw a lesson from even the most trivial stories.” “‘The Little Vulgar Boy,’ for instance, aunt. What is the lesson?” “Not to put any trust in strangers,” said Mr. Faradeane, quietly, and with the same flickering smile. Olivia colored, Bertie looked embarrassed, and Miss Amelia laughed awkwardly. “Oh, come,” said Bertie; “I’m sure you will give them something with a moral tagged to it. Better say yes, Faradeane.” There was silence for a moment or two. “Perhaps I’d better state that the proceeds of the entertainment will be devoted to the funds of the Muffin and Crumpet Society,” said Miss Amelia, with due solemnity. Mr. Faradeane looked up gravely. “That decides it,” he said. “I shall be very pleased to place my poor services at the disposal of so worthy a cause.” “You see, Olivia!” exclaimed Miss Amelia. “You are always laughing at the society. Now, Mr. Faradeane, whose opinion is, I am sure, of the greatest value, testifies to its great usefulness.” “Any cause advocated by Miss Vanley,” he said, with a bow, “must necessarily be a laudable and deserving one.” Miss Amelia simpered and bridled with pleasure, and Olivia turned to hide a smile. “I am going up to see Bessie,” she said. “Will you come with me, aunt?” and she bowed to Faradeane and nodded smilingly at Bertie. “Good-morning, Mr. Faradeane,” said Miss Amelia, giving him her hand graciously. “You will not forget. The twenty-ninth, at the schoolroom. I will send you a programme. Let me see; I think I shall put you between the vicar’s concertina and Miss Browne’s ‘Three Little Pigs.’” “Good gracious!” exclaimed Bertie, aghast.