here and there upon the floor and on the divan. By
the greatest good fortune none had yet caught fire, but the danger was
great, and at any moment the thin paper might be set in a blaze.

Aldred grasped the situation instantly. The flames, rising up from
below, had burnt through the string, and brought the whole row crashing
down. She rushed forward and began blowing out the candles as fast as
she could; with Mabel's help it was only the work of a minute, and no
damage was done, but it was a miracle that the flimsy scarves and the
wreaths of paper flowers had escaped.

"Who can have lighted them?" exclaimed Mabel, her cheeks quite pale at
the unexpected disaster. "We left all perfectly safe."

Aldred did not reply; she was busy adjusting her turban, which had
tumbled off in her hurry.

"I wonder if it could be Dora?" continued Mabel. "She's such a
scatter-brain, she always does silly things!"

"It does not matter so much who's done it, as how we're going to set
these lanterns up again in time," replied Aldred. "Where's the ball of
string? Here! you hold one end, and we'll thread it through; I'll soon
climb up and fasten it. I'll pull the burnt piece off first. Raise it up
a little higher, please. That's right! Now, just a thought tighter, and
it will do."

"How splendid you are!" sighed Mabel admiringly. "You have such presence
of mind, blowing out the candles so quickly, and getting everything
right in less than five minutes; nobody could see that we've had an
accident. It looks just the same. I should like to know who----"

"The audience is coming in!" interrupted Aldred. "We must scurry back
and see if the others are ready. There isn't a second to be lost. Miss
Drummond can't bear to be kept waiting, and we promised to begin
punctually at half-past."

The performance was an enormous success; of that there was not the
slightest shadow of doubt. Thanks to Aldred's diligent drilling, the
actresses "played up", and rendered their parts with a dramatic fervour
that quite astonished the audience. Bluebeard threatened in a voice of
growling thunder, and frowned fiercely in his character of tyrant.
Fatima shrieked in such frantic agony when she opened the cupboard door
that she made everybody start, and her swoon afterwards was particularly
easy and natural; she scrubbed the incriminating stain on the key with
desperate zeal, and pleaded for her life with heart-breaking sobs and an
air of tragic appeal. Sister Anne