ll arranged. Sheila and Arthur Davies, Margery, John,
you and I are in it. The question is what are you going to do?"

"Nothing. I never heard of such a horrible idea."

"Don't be a pig, Alan," said Margery.

"Really, Cecilia," I said, "let me plead with you. _Not_ a costume
concert party, please. A simple glee perhaps--just four of us--in
evening dress; or even a conjurer. I'll agree to anything. But not,
_not_ Pierrots, Cecilia."

"Pierrots it is," said Cecilia defiantly.

"Then I wash my hands of it. To think that our family----"

"You can wash your hands if you like," said Cecilia; "we should prefer
it, in fact; but you are certainly going to take part."

I know the futility of arguing with Cecilia.

"Then tell me the worst," I begged; "what am I to be? Can I show
people to their seats, or am I the good-looking tenor with gentlemanly
features and long hair?"

"We thought of making you the funny man," said Cecilia.

I buried my head in my hands and shuddered.

At this moment John came into the room. "Talking about the 'Merry
Maggots'?" he said. "Splendid idea of Cecilia's, isn't it? I've just
been thinking it over, and what we must decide on first of all is who
is to be the--the humourist. He's the really important man; must be
someone really first-class."

"We've also been discussing it," I said quickly, "and we came to the
conclusion that there's only one man for the job--yourself."

John nodded complacently.

"I'm glad to hear you say so, because I was going to suggest it
myself. It's my belief that I should be a devilish funny fellow if I
had a chance. I've just tried a few jokes on myself upstairs, and I've
been simply roaring with laughter. Haven't enjoyed myself so much for
years."

"Splendid fellow!" I said heartily; "you shall tell them to me later
on and I'll roar with laughter too. Cecilia, put your husband down for
the funny man."

"H'm--humourist," corrected John with a slight cough.

"'Humourist,'" I agreed; "and thank goodness that's settled."

"But," said Cecilia, "you said you were going to do a dramatic
recitation."

"So I am, so I am," said John; "I'm going to do that as well.
Contrast, my dear Cecilia. Laughter and tears. Double them up with
sly wit one moment and have them sobbing into their handkerchiefs the
next. I'm going to do it all, Cecilia."

"So it appears," said Cecilia; "it hardly seems worth while to have
anybody else in the show."

"Now, now," said John, wa