“It is past thinking now, my dear. Here we are, pledged. Can’t draw back, and you are the only being who can save us! You know the part.” “Yes, in a way.” “You did it with me at home.” “Oh yes; but, Uncle Lance, it would be too dreadful before all these people.” “Never mind the people. Be Mona, and only think of Alaster and Angus.” “But what would mamma say, or Aunt Wilmet? And Uncle Clem?” each in a more awe-stricken voice. “I’ll tackle them.” “I know I shall be frightened and fail, and that will be worse.” “No, it won’t, and you won’t. Look here, Francie, this is not a self-willed freak for our own amusement. The keeping up the Church schools here depends upon what we can raise. I hate bazaars. I hate to have to obtain help for the Church through these people’s idle amusement, but you and I have not two or three thousands to give away to a strange place in a lump; but we have our voices. ‘Such as I have give I thee,’ and this ridiculous entertainment may bring in fifty or maybe a hundred. I don’t feel it right to let it collapse for the sake of our own dislikes.” “Very well, Uncle Lance, I’ll do as you tell me.” “That’s the way to do it, my dear. At least, when you make ready, recollect, not that you are facing a multitude, but that you are saving a child’s Christian faith; when you prepare, that you have to do with nobody but Gerald and me; when it comes to ‘One, two, three, and away,’ mind nothing but your music and your cue.” “But the dress, uncle?” “The dress is all safe at the pavilion. You must come up and rehearse as soon as you have eaten your breakfast. Oh, you don’t know where. Well, one of us will come and fetch you. Good girl, Francie! Keep up your heart. By the bye, which is Fernan’s dressing-room? I must prepare him.” That question was answered, for Sir Ferdinand’s door into the corridor was opened. “Lance! I thought I heard your voice.” “Yes, here’s a pretty kettle of fish! Our Miranda has absconded, poor child. Happy thing you brought down Francie; nobody else could take the part at such short notice. You must pacify Marilda, silence scruples, say it is her duty to Church, country, and family. Can’t stop!” “Lance, explain--do! Music-mad as usual!” cried Sir Ferdinand, pursuing him down-stairs in despair. “I _must_ be music-mad; the only chance of keeping sane just now. There’s an awful predicament! Can’t go into it now, but you shall hear all when this is over.” Wherewith Lance was lost to view, and presently burst into St. Kenelm’s Vicarage, to the relief of poor Mr. Flight, who had tried to solace himself with those three words as best he might. “All right. My niece, Franceska Vanderkist, who took the part before, and who has a very good soprano, will do it better as to voice, if not so well as to acting, as the Little Butterfly.” “Is she here?” “Yes, by good luck. I shall have her up to the pavilion to rehearse her for the afternoon.”