“Come on!” he whispered, rising stealthily from his seat.

The room was in half darkness and the conjurer was just producing a white rabbit from his left toe, so that few noticed William’s quiet exit by the window followed by that of the blindly obedient Joan.

“You wait!” he whispered in the darkness of the garden.  She waited, shivering in her little white muslin dress, till he returned from the stable wheeling a hand-cart, consisting of a large packing case on wheels and finished with a handle.  He wheeled it round to the open French window that led into the dining-room.  “Come on!” he whispered again.

[Illustration:  FEW NOTICED WILLIAM’S EXIT BY THE WINDOW, FOLLOWED BY THE BLINDLY OBEDIENT JOAN.]

Following his example, she began to carry the plates of sandwiches, sausage rolls, meat pies, bread and butter, cakes and biscuits of every variety from the table to the hand-cart.  On the top they balanced carefully the plates of jelly and blanc-mange and dishes of trifle, and round the sides they packed armfuls of crackers.

At the end she whispered softly, “What’s it for, William?”

“It’s the secret,” he said.  “The crorse-me-throat secret I told you.”

“Am I going to help?” she said in delight.

He nodded.

“Jus’ wait a minute,” he added, and crept from the dining-room to the hall and upstairs.

He returned with a bundle of clothing which he proceeded to arrange in the garden.  He first donned his own red dressing gown and then wound a white scarf round his head, tying it under his chin so that the ends hung down.

“I’m makin’ believe I’m Father Christmas,” he deigned to explain.  “An’ I’m makin’ believe this white stuff is hair an’ beard.  An’ this is for you to wear so’s you won’t get cold.”

He held out a little white satin cloak edged with swansdown.

“Oh, how lovely, William!  But it’s not my cloak!  It’s Sadie Murford’s!”

“Never mind! you can wear it,” said William generously.

Then, taking the handles of the cart, he set off down the drive.  From the drawing-room came the sound of a chorus of delight as the conjurer produced a goldfish in a glass bowl from his head.  From the kitchen came the sound of the hilarious laughter of the maids.  Only in the dining-room, with its horrible expanse of empty table, was silence.

They walked down the road without speaking till Joan gave a little excited laugh.

“This is fun, William!  I do wonder what we’re going to do.”

“You’ll see,” said William.  “I’d better not tell you yet.  I promised a crorse-me-throat promise I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“All right, William,” she said sweetly.  “I don’t mind a bit.”

The evening was dark and rather foggy, so that the strange couple attracted little attention, except when passing beneath the street lamps.  Then certainly people stood still and looked at William and his cart in open-mouthed amazement.