"No, no, no!" said Harriet, coming between them, "you will be late, I tell you; and you know that half a hundred formal people are coming to dinner. You will get into sad disgrace."
Lucy decided at once to go home, and Mr. Haveloc gave her his arm, and walked with them through the church-yard to the carriage.
"Mr. Haveloc," said Harriet, "we are going to act a French vaudeville; the parts are not all filled. Will you take one?"
"I regret that my genius does not lie that way;" he said, "what is the play?"
"'La Demoiselle á marier.' Lucy is too idle to act—her forte is in tableaux. I am going to be the mother; Lord James Deacon, the friend; the father is to be forthcoming when we want him, and as Lady James won't take the lover, which is a shame, for she has an excellent figure for it; I don't very well see how you can be off—"
"I should put you out. I have no turn for the stage; and, besides, I am not familiar with French," he said, "if it had been Italian now—"
"Oh! you speak it as well as we do, I dare say," said Lucy, "you had better take it, I think."
"We will talk it over to-morrow," said Harriet as he put her into the carriage.