"Have some jam instead. What do you mean by saying I don't come on very much?" I took the book out of my pocket, and began to turn the leaves. "Here you are, nearly every page—'Enter R.,' 'Exit R.,' 'Enter L.'—I don't know who he is—'Exeunt R.,'—why, the rat-catcher's always doing something. Ah, here they're more explicit—'Enter R.C.' Hallo, that's funny, because I'd just—— Oh, I see."
"One of our oldest and most experienced mimes," said Archie to Derry. "You must get him to talk to you."
"No secret of the boards is hid from him," added Myra.
"Tell us again, sir, about your early struggles," begged Archie.
"He means your early performances on the stage," explained Myra.
"There's one very jolly story about Ellen Terry and the fireproof curtain. Let me see, were you Macbeth then, or Noise of Trumpets? I always forget."
I drank my last cup of tea, and rose with dignity.
"It is a humorous family," I apologised to Derry. "Their grandfather was just the same. He would have his little joke about the first steam-engine."
Outside, in the hall, there was a large crowd of unemployed, all talking at once. I caught the words "ridiculous" and "rehearsal," and the connection between the two seemed obvious and frequent. I singled out Thomas, abstracted his pouch, and began to fill up.
"What is all this acting business?" I asked. "Some idea about a little play, what? Let's toddle off, and have a game of billiards."