“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?” said Simpson.

“It sounds too exciting to be true.  I can’t believe it.”

“Go on, there’s a good chap.  They’ll know how to play all right.”

“Oh, very well.  Do they take their boots off first or not?”

Twos and Threes was a great success.

I found that I had quite a Flair for the game.  I seemed to take to it naturally.

By the time our match was finished Simpson’s little footwear trouble was over and he was organizing a grand three-legged race.

“I think they are all enjoying it,” said Dahlia.

“They love it,” I said; “Thomas is perfectly happy making rounders.”

“But I meant the children.  Don’t you think they love it too?  The babies seem so happy with Myra.  I suppose she’s telling them stories.”

“I think so.  She’s got rather a good one about a bee.  Oh, yes, they’re happy enough with her.”

“I hope they all had enough to eat at tea.”

“Allowing for a little natural shyness I think they did well.  And I didn’t spill anything.  Altogether it has been rather a success.”

Dahlia stood looking down at the children, young and old, playing in the field beneath her, and gave a sigh of happiness.

“Now,” she said, “I feel the house is really warm.”

IV.—­A WORD IN SEASON

“Archie,” said Blair, “what’s that big empty room above the billiard-room for?”

“That,” said Archie, “is where we hide the corpses of our guests.  I sleep with the key under my pillow.”

“This is rather sudden,” I said.  “I’m not at all sure that I should have come if I had known that.”

“Don’t frighten them, dear; tell them the truth.”

“Well, the truth is,” said Archie, “that there was some idea of a little play-acting there occasionally.  Hence the curtain-rod, the emergency exit and other devices.”

“Then why haven’t we done any?  We came down here to open your house for you, and then you go and lock up the most important room of all, and sleep with the key under your pillow.”

“It’s too hot.  But we’ll do a little charade to-night if you like—­just to air the place.”

“Hooray,” said Myra, “I know a lovely word.”

Myra’s little word was in two syllables and required three performers.  Archie and I were kindly included in her company.  Simpson threatened to follow with something immense and archaic, and Thomas also had something rather good up his sleeve, but I am not going to bother you with these.  One word will be enough for you.

FIRST SCENE

“Oh, good-morning,” said Myra.  She had added a hat and a sunshade to her evening-frock, and was supported by me in a gentleman’s lounge-coat and boater for Henley wear.

“Good-morning, mum,” said Archie, hitching up his apron and spreading his hands on the table in front of him.