"Now, Frank," she said, "it won't do to sulk or to flirt with Santa Rosa. What's got into you, anyway? You must positively do something to amuse us."
"Office hours from ten till four," Keith murmured audibly.
Frankie Dean turned on him: "They never let you out of your cage at all!"
Fernigan, thereat, began an absurd pantomime that half terrified the girl from Santa Rosa. He pretended to be a monkey behind the bars of a cage, eating peanuts—and worse. It was shockingly funny. The company roared, all but Granthope. He was at the point of impatience, but replied with what sounded like ennui:
"I'm a bit stale, Violet; you'll have to excuse me if I'm stupid to-night. I came to be entertained."
Frankie Dean looked at him mischievously. "Never mind, Mr. Granthope, she'll come back."
It was obviously no more than a cant phrase, intended for a witticism. Mrs. Page, however, took it up with mock seriousness.
"Who's 'she', now? I'm back in the chorus again! There was a time, Frank—" Her voice was sentimental; she tilted her head and looked at him, under half-closed eyelids, across the table.
"I say, Granthope, you ought to publish an illustrated catalogue of 'em. There's nothing doing for amateurs, nowadays. When women pay five dollars to have their hands held what chance is there for us?" This from Keith, with burlesque emphasis.
Mrs. Page would not be diverted. "No, but really, Frank; who is she? I've quite lost track of your conquests."