"O, I don't mind," says Doris carelessly. "I shall require to have some of it spread upon bread by and by, you know, and I shall be sure to smear myself then. I always do with honey or jam or anything of that kind. Besides, having once got the pot I don't intend to put it down again. Oh, good gracious, Bobby, you're standing on my train! Do pull him off, Colonel Danvers!" The stage-manager does as he is desired, and Master Bob is led off by the ear mildly protesting at the indignity offered him.
Molly has long ago returned to her duties at the piano, for during the "interval of ten minutes" the audience must, of course, be sufficiently amused.
That over, the three pictures of "The queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honey," "The king was in his counting-house, counting out his money," and "The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes," rapidly follow, with Doris as queen, Regy Horton as king, and Honor as the maid, a stuffed magpie having been engaged for the role of the blackbird.
Directly the curtain descends on the last of these three Molly once more leaves Miss Denison at the piano, it being imperative that she shall increase the number of domestics appertaining to the kitchen in which the Queen of Hearts is discovered making tarts.
Honor is the queen on this occasion, and Dick personates the knave in the second scene. Great care and thought have been expended on the dressing of this set of pictures, and in the last, when a goodly crowd, all representing the suit of hearts, is collected on the stage, the effect is really good. Hugh manages to get up the bland, vacant kind of expression in which the kings of a pack of cards generally rejoice, and Honor, after the manner of cardboard queens, looks decidedly cross, presumably at the abduction of her tarts; while Dick has the debonair, impudent manner peculiar to the knaves. If anything mars the effect of this last tableau it is the painful fact that the knave of hearts, as he stands with his arms folded, scornfully glancing down at the dish of tarts, shows distinct signs of having tasted as well as purloined those dainties; for his flushed countenance is embellished here and there with little streaks of jam, which if not becoming are at least highly suggestive.
This last picture brings the dramatic portion of the evening to a close, and the actors and actresses dash madly from the room, regardless of the dire confusion left behind them; for in another moment the audience will be making their exit by the same door on their way to the study, where light refreshments are being served before the next business of the evening, namely the dancing, begins. Honor and Doris are soon ready to join the throng below, for it has been arranged that they shall keep to their last dresses in the tableaux for the remainder of the evening. Molly, however, is to wear the new white silk which is to do duty for the round of Christmas parties which the girls are generally in request for. It is some time, therefore, before she makes her appearance in the drawing-room. The dancing has already commenced, but Doris and Honor are still standing, the centre of a congratulatory group, and it is only when their respective partners come forward to claim them that a truce is given to the compliments which might have turned the heads of any less sensible girls than they.
When Molly at length appears she feels, to use her own expression, rather "out of it," for during her absence engagements have of course been made for the first one or two dances, so she leans rather disconsolately against a doorway from which the door has been removed, and half hidden by a curtain she looks on at the gay scene before her. She is just answering some energetic signs from Alick Horton, and telegraphing back her willingness to finish the dance with him if he can safely pilot himself round to her retreat without being run down by the many couples now whirling round the room, when her shoulder is touched from behind, and Colonel Danvers puts back the curtain, saying as he does so, "Now, Miss Molly, I have brought a penitent sinner with me who is desirous of having the honour of dancing with you."
Molly glances up, and seeing Hugh standing beside the colonel with a crestfallen and guilty appearance, looks down again saying, "I am not going to dance this time, thank you; or if I do," she adds hastily, seeing Alick approaching slowly and surely, "it will be with Alick; I have promised him."
The mention of his brother's name appears to have an irritating effect on Hugh, for he says hastily, and not without some temper, "O, Alick is nobody! he can wait. Come now, Molly, you promised me, you know."
But Molly shakes her head.