And in just as brief a time as it might take an active young man to shed his overshoes and his raincoat, in walked Clarence Rutherford, as gay as always, and unusually secure of his welcome. CHAPTER ELEVEN PIRATE COUSINS TO THE RESCUE "Thought I'd drop in and tell you some inspiriting news, it's such a beastly night," said he with _empressement_. "--Princess Melisande! What have they been doing to you?" he broke off to ask tenderly under his breath. "Our little princess turned into a Cinderella!" His tone was calculated to induce self-pity in the breast of an oyster. But Joy, though she liked it mildly, did not feel moved to tears. Clarence was an interruption, even if a flattering one. "My mother is ill," explained John, when Clarence had greeted him also in his most setting-at-ease manner. ("Kind of a man who'd try to make you welcome in your own house!" he growled under his breath. John also felt interrupted.) But Clarence established himself friendlily in a third chair, and told Joy with charming masterfulness that she was to put down her work immediately and listen to him. "We're going to get up a Gilbert and Sullivan opera," said he. "Now it stands to reason that we have to have you. I can tell by the pretty way you speak you have a good stage delivery, and you have all sorts of presence. Question is, have you a voice? If so, much honor shall be yours." "Well, I've had lessons for years, and they say so," offered Joy modestly. "It's mezzo-soprano--lyric." Both men looked at her in surprise. People were always being surprised at things she knew--as if she had ever done anything in her life but be trained--for no particular purpose, as it had seemed. And now everything she knew seemed to be going to be useful, one way or another. Harp lessons, singing lessons, lessons in the proper way to speak Grandfather's poetry--there had never seemed to be any particular point to any of them. And now everything was falling into line. "Go on," said Clarence. "But I forgot, you said you couldn't dance." "Only the kind that people do in--bare feet and Greek draperies, and I hate that," Joy answered deprecatingly. "You are a Philistine," said Clarence. "But it's attractive." "One of Grandfather's friends does it for a living, and taught me, as a token of affection and esteem, she called it. Would it be any use?" "Use?" said Clarence rapturously. "You are exactly what the doctor ordered. If I can stun Gail into submission you shall be our leading lady, with all the real star parts in your grasp. Rehearsals at ten sharp, and _I'm_ the director. _Me voici!_" He rose and made her a deep bow. He had, apparently, quite forgotten John, who still sat quietly with his paper across his knees, listening to them. "And where do I come in?" he asked with a little twinkle in his eyes. "Oh-oh yes," returned Clarence genially, "my dear fellow, how could we have forgotten you? Good old John, to want a part!"