"No, it wasn't, it was yours! I think it will be rather fun! Cheer up, Bevis! Don't look such a scared owl! Here's old Clive absolutely peacocking at the idea."
"If I'm to be Isabella?" grinned Clive.
"Of course, if I'm Augustus!"
"Merle—you can't!"
"Who says I can't? The joke of it will be that nobody'll know. Clive and I are the same height and really rather alike, and if we change clothes they'll all think he's Augustus and I'm Isabella."
"Will anybody recognise me as Uncle Cashbags?" groaned Bevis.
"Not your nearest and dearest. Be as gruff as you can, and limp as you did last night. We're not going to let you off! Don't you think it! Why, we couldn't possibly do the piece without you!"
The young people, ostensibly for the entertainment of their elders, but largely for the amusement of themselves, had been acting in the evenings to an audience of Aunt Nellie, Uncle David, and Father and Mother. Their last performance had really been so successful that they felt they might venture to give it in so great an emergency. They began at once to pack their various properties.
"Rather a score to be asked to appear on a public platform! I wish Miss
Mitchell could be there to see us!" triumphed Merle.
"The joke is that I don't believe Chagmouth people will recognise any of us," said Mavis, hunting for a pair of spectacles she had mislaid. "I'm going to bargain that our names aren't announced beforehand."