king, turns over a
page and falls asleep again."

They all laughed.

"Oh, he's a famous sleeper," Addie continued. "It's as difficult to get
him out of bed as into it. He says himself he's an awful lounger and
used to idle away whole days before he invented time-tables. Now, he has
every hour cut and dried--he says his salvation lies in regular hours."

"Addie, Addie, don't tell tales out of school," said Sidney.

"Why, what tales?" asked Addie, astonished. "Isn't it rather to his
credit that he has conquered his bad habits?"

"Undoubtedly; but it dissipates the poetry in which I am sure Miss
Ansell was enshrouding him. It shears a man of his heroic proportions,
to hear he has to be dragged out of bed. These things should be kept in
the family."

Esther stared hard at the house. Her cheeks glowed as if the limelight
man had turned his red rays on them. Sidney chuckled mentally over his
insight. Addie smiled.

"Oh, nonsense. I'm sure Esther doesn't think less of him because he
keeps a time-table."

"You forget your friend has what you haven't--artistic instinct. It's
ugly. A man should be a man, not a railway system. If I were you, Addie,
I'd capture that time-table, erase lecturing and substitute
'cricketing.' Raphael would never know, and every afternoon, say at 2
P.M., he'd consult his time-table, and seeing he had to cricket, he'd
take up his stumps and walk to Regent's Park."

"Yes, but he can't play cricket," said Esther, laughing and glad of the
opportunity.

"Oh, can't he?" Sidney whistled. "Don't insult him by telling him that.
Why, he was in the Harrow eleven and scored his century in the match
with Eton; those long arms of his send the ball flying as if it were a
drawing-room ornament."

"Oh yes," affirmed Addie. "Even now, cricket is his one temptation."

Esther was silent. Her Raphael seemed toppling to pieces. The silence
seemed to communicate itself to her companions. Addie broke it by
sending Sidney to smoke a cigarette in the lobby. "Or else I shall feel
quite too selfish," she said. "I know you're just dying to talk to some
sensible people. Oh, I beg your pardon, Esther."

The squire of dames smiled but hesitated.

"Yes, do go," said Esther. "There's six or seven minutes more interval.
This is the longest wait."

"Ladies' will is my law," said Sidney, gallantly, and, taking a
cigarette case from his cloak, which was hung on a peg at the back of a
box, he strolled out. "Perhaps," he s