"Oh, no," said Mrs. Eames. "Poor Timothy never does anything as useful as that. You wouldn't think it of him if you knew him, Lord Colavon, and of course it may not be he who has taken the spade. I only said he had because I can't think of anyone else who would take it. But what would he want a pickaxe for inside the church? And he never comes out. He just sits there all day, reading Greek, you know." Sir Evelyn, though he did not say so, was of opinion that the vicar must have gone mad. St. Paul, who also seems to have read Greek books, was suspected of having been driven insane through much learning. Something of the sort might have happened to Mr. Eames; but Sir Evelyn was more inclined to lay the blame on Mrs. Eames. He thought it likely that he would be mad too if he had been married to her. "So you're really an actress," said Mrs. Eames, turning abruptly to Mary. "You did say she was a real actress, didn't you, Beth? Isn't that lucky? You must know all about pageants, if you're an actress, and you'll be able to help us. I do want someone to help. You'll come and stay with us till the pageant's over, won't you? You can have Beth's room. Or if Beth comes too, you can share it. You'll come, won't you, Beth?" "Miss Lambert and Miss Appleby," said Sir Evelyn, "have kindly consented to stay with me till the play is over." "Quite right," said Mrs. Eames cheerfully. "They'll be far more comfortable with you. I'd love to have them both. You know that, Beth. But--well, you know what Gladys is like." "But of course I'll help," said Mary. "I'll come over every day." "How splendid. We'll have a rehearsal this afternoon. Gladys shall run round the village and tell the people. She'll like doing that far better than cooking lunch. I'm afraid there isn't very much for lunch. You see, I haven't been having regular meals since poor dear Timothy took to living in the church. But we might have pancakes. You like pancakes, don't you, Sir Evelyn?" "We shouldn't dream of trespassing on your kindness, Mrs. Eames," said Sir Evelyn. "We brought our own luncheon with us." "So if you'll just lend us knives and forks, Aunt Agatha," said Beth. Many women, slaves to conventionality, would have been vexed to think that guests, arriving at luncheon time, had brought their own food with them. Mrs. Eames was not even ruffled. "But you must have pancakes too," she said, "and scrambled eggs. I'm rather good at scrambled eggs. And luckily the hens are all laying just now. Generally they do nothing but go broody at this time of year. It may have been excitement about the pageant which kept them from sitting. Not that they understand what's happening, poor things, but excitement gets into the air. So we can have pancakes and scrambled eggs. I know you like scrambled eggs, Sir Evelyn." "Oh, greatly," said Sir Evelyn. "But I really wish you wouldn't take so much trouble."