Clarice would have liked to question Mrs. Dumps further about the marriage, but that the curtain rose, and she had to pay attention to the sketch. The scene represented, very picturesquely, a garden of roses, and at the back was a Brobdignagian flower, upon which lay stretched out a gigantic green worm. This was probably the Chrysalis, which it had been Ferdy's ambition to act. While the music thrilled through the air, and the lights rapidly changed, the worm began to writhe and to execute acrobatic feats. It twisted and turned on the small space--comparatively speaking--of the flower, and finally crawled across the stage, wriggling grotesquely. Mrs. Dumps was annoyed. "To think that a child of mine and Twine should make such an exhibition of herself," she said, indignantly. "That is not Zara," whispered Clarice, smiling; "she appears as the Butterfly, you know." "Then all I can say is that she ain't like the butterflies I've met with," said Mrs. Dumps, angrily, "me having chased them as a girl." "Wait till Zara appears," was the reply of the charming, handsome young gentleman, whom the landlady of the Savoy Hotel took to be Mr. Ferdinand Baird, of The Laurels. Mrs. Dumps sniffed aggressively, and sat very rigid, with the fullest intention of giving her daughter a good talking to for daring to lower the dignity of the Twine name. Meanwhile, the eyes of all were watching the pretty picture on the stage. A wind swept through the garden of flowers, and the blossoms withered under its blighting breath. In one moment the radiant Paradise of Roses took on a wintry aspect. Snow fell thickly, the trees shed their leaves, the sky turned dark, and the ungainly green chrysalis shivered and wriggled in a wonderful manner to the shrill blowing of flutes and trumpets in the orchestra. It was so realistic that the audience could almost--as one enthusiast declared--feel the cold.