"You don't mean that?"
"Indeed I do. My mother and sisters do not approve of the theatre. They would never let me go."
Mr. Chalcombe muttered something that it was well Juliet did not catch, since it was not complimentary to the intelligence of her family. Flossie was listening rather nervously to the talk going on between her father and her friend. It was a relief to her that at this moment the maid appeared bearing the tea-tray, which she placed with some clatter on the table.
"Here's the tea at last!" Flossie exclaimed. "You must have thought, Juliet, that it was never coming."
Thus reminded of the flight of time, Juliet glanced at the clock, and was dismayed to see how late it was.
She rose from the piano. Algernon drew forward a chair for her, brought her some tea, and waited on her assiduously.
"Will you have some tea, father?" Flossie asked.
"No, thank you, my dear, no, thank you. Tea is all very well for women-folks, but I like something stronger. Oh dear, I am forgetting my letters! I must bid you good-day, Miss Tracy. Now think over what I've said, and when you've made up your mind, you come to me, and I'll put you in the way of things. It's my belief that with proper training you might soon be earning your thirty guineas a night, and that's not a sum to be sniffed at, let me tell you."
"No, indeed!" exclaimed Flossie. "Only think, Juliet, thirty guineas a night!"
"Juliet!" exclaimed Mr. Chalcombe. "There you are! The very name for an opera singer. She might play Juliet to your Romeo, eh, Algie? That would be the best use you could make of your good looks, as I often tell you. Ha, ha, ha!"