"I'm waiting here for Kate," I said. "I mean Myra." "Oughtn't you to be dressing? It doesn't matter about me--I'm not on for a long time." "A rat-catcher's best suit is not an elaborate one; I can put it on in about five minutes. It is now seven-thirty, we begin at eight-thirty--hence the billiard cue. More chalk." "Oh, why aren't you nervous? How you can stand calmly there----" "I am nervous. Look." I aimed carefully and put the red into a pocket some miles away. "There you are. Have you ever seen me do that in real life? Of course not. If my hand had been steady I should have been a foot to the right. Still more chalk." "Well, I want Archie, and I shall cry if I don't find him. That's how I feel." She sat down and got up again. "My dear Dahlia," I said solemnly, "now you can understand a father's feelings--I mean, now, you see what you women have brought on yourselves. Who suggested a play? The women. Who dragged me into it? The women. Who said rat-catchers always wore whiskers? The women. Who is designing me a pair of whiskers at this moment? The wom----Simpson. Who but for whom (this is going to be a very difficult sentence) who but for whom, would be just thinking of dressing leisurely for dinner, instead of which we had a hasty snack, and have now got to put on heaven knows what? The women. Well, it serves you right." "Don't be horrid. I want Archie." She got up for the third time and drifted out of the room. I chalked my cue and went into a pocket without touching anything. When I say I went in I mean that the ball I was playing with went in. You do see that? Very well, then. I took it out and began to squint along my cue again, when two hands came suddenly over my eyes and a voice said; "Guess who is is." "The Queen of Sheba," I tried. "Right," said Myra. I turned and looked at her. "Golly, you do, you really do!" I said at last. "Did they always dress like that in the Bong era? Short skirts, long pigtail, bare arms--lovely!" "'I can sit in the sun and look just twenty-one,'" sang Myra as she dropped into the sofa. "Well, just at present you're sitting in the billiard-room and looking about fifteen.... How are you getting on with your French this term? I had a very bad report in the holidays from your governess. The extra ninepence a week seems to have been simply thrown away." "Aren't you excited?" said Myra, looking at me with sparkling eyes. "As for calisthenics, well, what I say is, 'My daughter is Church of England, and if you don't like it, she can come away. I'm not going to have her stuffed up with all that nonsense.'" Myra jumped up. "Aren't you excited?" she insisted. "Feel my tongue--I mean my pulse, it's quite normal. And why? Because I've forgotten my part, and I'm going to bed." "It's a great responsibility our beginning the play."