"No, no!" cried Mr. Etheringham, suddenly spying the sandwich, "I will not go on while you're eating!"
"But I'm so hungry, Mr. Etheringham!" she pleaded in a sweet childish voice. "It's past three and I've had no lunch."
"Lunch, lunch, always lunch! No sooner do we begin to get going than it's lunch!"
She stood still, munching, smiling, appealing to him with wide-open candid eyes. He flung himself crossly into a chair. "Take a quarter-of-an-hour then! After that we'll go back and run straight through the act." Miss Layard dimpled in a smile. He broke out again. "But go on while you're eating I won't!"
On receiving their brief respite the men on the stage had scuttled off, like rabbits into their holes; Miss Layard too hurried off, but soon reappeared in the front of the house, carrying a paper bag with more sandwiches. She sat down in the front row of the stalls, still munching steadily.
"I'll be back in a minute," said Joe, and went and sat himself down beside her.
A melancholy voice came from the cavernous recesses of the pit: "We could do with a bit more life, Etheringham."
"If we get the pace and the positions now, the life'll soon come. I've got some experience, I suppose, haven't I?"
The author emerged into view, as he replied sadly, "Oh, experience, yes!" He did not appear disposed to allow the producer any other qualifications for his task.
Mr. Etheringham gave him a fiery glare but no answer. Mr. Beverley saw Arthur and came up to him. "Hullo, Lisle, have you come to see this rot?"