indignation was heightened by a sort of revulsion from last night's
anxiety on his account. His lordly indifference to other people's
feelings was more irritating than the trouble he gave us by changing
his mind.

"You won't let him take the Woolly Beast from me, Isobel?" cried
Charles. "And you know you promised to lend _me_ your ostrich plume."

"Certainly not," said I. "And you shall have the feather. I promised."

"If Mr. Clinton acts--I shan't," said Alice.

"Mr. Clinton won't act," said I, "I can't alter the piece now. But I
wish, Alice, you were not always so very ready to drive things into a
quarrel."

"If we hadn't given way to Philip so much he wouldn't think we can
bear anything," said Alice.

I could not but feel that there was some truth in this, and that it
was a dilemma not provided against in Aunt Isobel's teaching, that
one may be so obliging to those one lives with as to encourage, if not
to teach them to be selfish.

Perhaps it would have been well if on the first day when Philip
deserted us Alice and I, had spent the afternoon with Lucy Lambent,
and if we had continued to amuse ourselves with our friends when
Philip amused himself with his. We should then have been forced into a
common decision as to whether the play should be given up, and,
without reproaches or counter-reproaches, Philip would have learned
that he could not leave all the work to us, and then arrange and
disarrange the plot at his own pleasure, or rather, he would never
have thought that he could. But a plan of this kind requires to be
carried out with perfect coolness to be either justifiable or
effective. And we have not a cool head amongst us.

One thing was clear. I ought to keep faith with the others who had
worked when Philip would not. Charles should not be turned out of his
part I rather hustled over the question of a new part for Mr. Clinton
in my mind. I disliked him, and did not want to introduce him. I said
to myself that it was quite unreasonable--out of the question in
fact--and I prepared to say so to Philip.

Of course he was furious--that I knew he would be; but I was firm.

"Charles can be the Old Father, and the Family Servant too," said he.
"They're both good parts."

"Then give them to Mr. Clinton," said I, well knowing that he would
not. "Charles has taken a great deal of pains with his part, and these
are his holidays as well as yours, and the Prince shall not be taken
from him."

"Well, I say