A miniature garden has been quickly improvised for this picture; and the girl standing in the middle of it, with finger on pouting lip and a general air of discontent and vexation, looks natural and well. Truth to tell, the pouting expression is not altogether foreign to Doris's face; and while the audience is thinking how well she has assumed the contrariness, Dick whispers to his sister, "I say, Honor, Doris's pouting propensities have come in useful at last, haven't they?"
There is only one more picture now before the end of the first part, so Molly once more disappears, and is in time to help in placing Daisy in position as "Miss Muffit," with her companion the spider, of which she feels rather a wholesome dread. Unfortunately for her feelings, Regy, who has manufactured it, has made one of the creature's legs a shade shorter than the rest. The consequence is that, when the spider is standing, this short leg dangles loosely and suggestively, inspiring poor Daisy with genuine terror. The best side is, of course, turned towards the audience, and when the curtain goes up the little girl is discovered in a very natural attitude of fright, as she shrinks away from the monster, with her cup of curds-and-whey in one hand and her spoon in the other. Molly emerges from the dressing-room just as a storm of vociferous applause informs her that the curtain has descended on the much-appreciated picture of "Little Miss Muffit." As she passes into the school-room behind the huge screen which hides the actors and actresses from view as they enter, she meets Hugh, who is evidently feeling as forlorn as the "maiden" herself in his ragged and tattered garb. He is keeping well in the shadow at present, and only steps forward as Molly comes up.
"You don't look very handsome," she remarks laconically; "and—yes, I verily believe your face is dirty."
"Yes," says Hugh guiltily, "I'm afraid it is. The fact is, I smudged it with a bit of burnt cork. I was going to wash it—I was indeed," he adds hastily, "but we heard the applause beginning for 'Miss Muffit,' and Colonel Danvers said there wasn't time, and declared it was not the least likely that the 'Man all tattered and torn' would have a clean face. I can go and wash it now," he says humbly, "if you think it will do to keep everybody waiting."
"O, no!" says Molly hastily, "we can't do that, of course; but do for goodness' sake give it a rub with your handkerchief. Have you got one?" she adds, looking doubtfully at him; "perhaps you haven't even got a pocket in that tattered old coat. Well, here's mine;" and diving into the depths of the capacious pocket which is hidden away in the folds of the still-room maid's cotton dress which she is wearing, she produces a small dainty cambric affair, which Hugh, with a mixture of amusement and awe, accepts gratefully. At this moment Colonel Danvers hurries up.
"Come, you two," he says, "they will be tired of waiting. Now, you sit here on this stool, Molly. That's right—capital! Show your face a little more to the audience; now lean it on your hand—so, and twist up your apron with the other. I'll see to the 'man'—don't you move on any account now, there's a good girl. Now, Hugh, just here. All right! you'll remember the sign, and don't fall over the pail;" and before Molly has time to ascertain his whereabouts the bell tinkles, and up goes the curtain.
It is a pretty picture enough; for a neat little rustic scene has been painted for the back of the stage, in which the refractory cow may be seen grazing, rather peaceably perhaps considering its reputation for bad temper. A sun-bonnet is lying on the green baize in front of Molly, and at her side is a genuine milking-pail borrowed from the dairy. Molly herself is staring straight before her in a truly dejected manner, while Hugh has the appearance of having crept up stealthily till within about half a yard of her. The seconds creep on, and as Hugh has not moved an inch Molly reassures herself with the thought that after all it was only his nonsense about being obliged to give the kiss. She congratulates herself too soon, however, for as the bell rings for the curtain to descend, Hugh suddenly darts forward and kisses her lightly on the cheek just as it is about half-way down.
The peals of laughter which, with the applause, ring through the room testify to the audience's thorough appreciation of the joke; but Molly as she rises expresses extreme indignation at what she called Hugh's "horrid meanness," throwing dark hints over her shoulder as she marches from the room as to all favours being discontinued for the remainder of the evening. Hugh looks so disconsolate that Colonel Danvers slaps him on the shoulder, saying with a hearty laugh, "Come, cheer up, man! the fun of the picture was in the kiss, you know, and Molly doesn't mean what she says. You leave her little ladyship to me and I'll see that it's all right; she is only put out for the moment. Now clear the stage for the first scene of 'The queen was in the parlour.' Where is the queen? Oh, here you are, Doris! Yes, you will do very well; but your crown is all on one side, and the effect is rakish in the extreme. Come here, and let me straighten it."
"O, for goodness' sake mind the honey!" cries Doris excitedly. "It's trickling down the sides now, I do believe!" and she holds up the pot down the side of which a thin stream of the sticky substance is steadily making its way. "I found Teddy and Dick at it, you know," she continues, deliberately drawing one finger up the side of the pot to stay the stream; "and in the scuffle it got knocked over, and before I could rescue it of course some must needs run over. I have stuck to it ever since though!" she adds triumphantly.
"It seems to me that it has stuck to you," says the colonel dryly. "How in the world can you endure to have such sticky fingers?"