"Why not himself?" said Jill.
"M, no," said I. "We must find something out of the common. A mountebank's too ordinary. I want our party to be one of the features of the ball."
"Would it be asking you too much to shut your face?" said Berry. "Nobody spoke to you. Nobody wants to speak to you. I will go further. Nobody—"
"Could he go as a cook, d'you think?" said Daphne. "A chef-thing, I mean. They had cooks, of course. Or a wine-butler? They must have had—"
"Or a birthright?" said Berry. "We know they had birthrights. And I'd sooner be a birthright than a wine-cooler any day. Besides, Jonah could go as a mess of pottage. There's an idea for you. Talk about originality!"
"Originality!" said his wife contemptuously. "Studied imbecility, you mean. Anyone can originate drivel."
"It's in the blood," said Jonah. "One of his uncles was a Master in Lunacy."
I laid down my pen and leaned back in my chair.
"It comes to this," said I. "Whatever he goes as, he'll play the fool. Am I right, sir?"
"Yes," said every one.