“Ah, now Georgie’s happy,” said Lady Adela, with a laugh, as the blushing damsel cast down her eyes.  “Well, I propose that we all go into the drawing-room, and we’ll hear for ourselves how Pastora and Damon sing together.  You may make as much noise as ever you like; the children are in Hampshire; Hugh is in Scotland; the servants are out of hearing; and our neighbors are a long way off.”

This suggestion, coming from the lady of the house, was of the nature of a command, and so they leisurely trooped into the great drawing-room, where the candles were still burning.  But there was something else than these artificial lights that attracted the sharp eyes of Miss Georgie Lestrange the moment she entered this new apartment.  There was a curious, wan kind of color about the curtains and the French windows that did not seem natural to the room.  She walked quickly forward, drew the lace hangings aside, and then, suddenly, she exclaimed,

“Why, it’s almost daylight!  Look here, Adela, why shouldn’t we have a rehearsal of the whole piece, from end to end—­a real rehearsal, this time, on the lawn? and Rose can tell us all how we are to stand, and Mr. Moore will show us what we should do besides merely speaking the lines.”

This bold proposal was greeted with general acclaim, and instantly there was a bustle of preparation.  Lady Sybil began to tune her violin by the side of the open piano; Lady Rosamund, who was at once scene-painter and stage-manager, as it were, got out some sheets of drawing-paper, on which she had sketched the various groups; and Lady Adela brought forth the Ms. books of the play, which had been prepared under the careful (and necessary) supervision of Lionel Moore.

“Rockminster will have to figure as the audience,” his eldest sister said, as she was looping up her long train of silver-gray satin preparatory to going out.

“That is a part I could play to perfection,” put in Miss Lestrange’s brother.

“Oh, no,” Lady Adela remonstrated.  “You may be wanted for Palaemon.  You see, this is how it stands.  The young shepherd was originally played at Drury Lane by a boy—­and in Dublin by an actress; it is a boy’s part, indeed.  Well, you know, we thought Cis Yorke would snap at it; and she was eager enough at first; but”—­and here Lady Adela smiled demurely—­“I think her courage gave way.  The boy’s dress looked charming as Rose sketched it for her—­and the long cloak made it quite proper, you know—­and very picturesque, too—­but—­but I think she’s frightened.  We can’t count on her.  So we may have to call on you for Palaemon, Mr. Lestrange.”

“And I have taken the liberty of cutting out the song, for it’s rather stupid,” said Lionel Moore, “so you’ve only got a few lines to repeat.”

“The fewer the better,” replied Mr. Percy Lestrange, who was possibly right in considering that, with his far-from-regular features and his red hair and moustache, his appearance as a handsome young swain should not have too much prominence given it.