“You know, this sort of thing really won’t do. If this show is to be any good at all, we ought to pull ourselves together and have a proper rehearsal.”
“‘The heighth of the mountains,’” came faintly from the far corner of the hall.
“If you will collect everyone and bring them here, I’ll keep them together and send for Patch, and we’ll go through the whole thing,” I said.
“Right you are. I’ll ring the gong and they’ll think it’s lunch. That’ll bring them.”
“The young are so cynical nowadays,” I heard Sallie murmur.
“Why not be content with the spirit of the thing, supposing the actual letter fails me?” Alfred Kendal suggested in the distance. “As a matter of fact, there’s always a certain amount of gag expected at a show of this kind.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it in a minute,” said Nancy, with her usual kindly, if unfounded, optimism. “Let’s just run through it again ... ‘color of the sea.’”
They crawled through it again.
Martyn’s performance on the gong actually did bring most people into the hall and I then announced that a final rehearsal was to take place at once, and everybody said that it was utterly impossible and adduced important reasons why they should be somewhere else doing something quite different.
“Very well, then we’ll call a general rehearsal immediately after lunch. Three o’clock sharp. Does that suit everybody?”