Now it chanced that there was a property chair used in this play of remarkably comfortable proportions, and the Honorable Bertie being long and lazy invariably lounged at his ease in this chair between the acts, for he had no change of dress and no opportunity of amusing himself with Ivy just in the intervals because she happened to have rather elaborate changes. Macneillie, who was his own Stage Manager, had for some time observed the cool disregard shown by the amateur of the peremptory call of “Clear!” on the part of his Assistant stage manager. Deaf to the order Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes invariably took his ease in the big chair, lazily watching the busy workers with an air of irritating superiority. “I think I shall cure him of this little habit,” reflected Macneillie with a smile, and seizing a moment when his victim was the only person visible on the stage he suddenly rang up the curtain. A roar of laughter rose from the audience, for there in full view sat the Honorable Bertie with his legs dangling in unconventional comfort over the arm of the chair. He sprang to his feet in horror, dashed to the practicable door at the back of the stage deeming it his nearest escape, forgot that he still wore his guard’s helmet, crashed it violently against the lintel, and by the time he had staggered back, and with lowered crest disappeared behind the scenes, left the house in convulsions of merriment. The curtain descended again, and the Honorable Bertie choking with rage contemplated his battered helmet with a fiery face, and vowed vengeance on Macneillie, but had not the sense to join in the laughter which even Ivy could not suppress, do what she would. The sight of her mirth put the last touch to his wrath, and at the close of the performance he had an angry interview with the manager who, as he furiously declared, had made him ridiculous before the whole house. “The curtain was rung up too early,” admitted Macneillie. “But the order had been given to clear the stage; you persistently disregard that order every night and must take the consequences.” “I will not stay another day in your d----d company,” said the Honorable Bertie, fuming. Macneillie bowed in acquiescence; gravely assured the Earl’s son that a cheque for the amount of his weekly salary should be sent the next day to his hotel, and bade him good evening. Perhaps Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes did not quite like to be so promptly taken at his own word, perhaps the quiet dignity of Macneillie’s manner was too much for him; the threats and denunciations he longed to pour forth somehow stuck in his throat, and with a muttered oath he took his departure, leaving Macneillie well satisfied with the result of his stratagem. Three days after, the company moved on to Gloucester, Ivy however had made the Business Manager put her in a different railway carriage from the Denmeads with whom she usually travelled, and Evereld could only contrive to exchange a few words with her at the station.