"I'll do that all right for her, if she'll give me a decent contract and pay for rehearsals."
"I don't fancy Aunt Agatha can pay anybody for anything."
"Well, I'm not going into it for the love of art; but if you can put my name down as a patron it might be some use. Almost any kind of ad. pays, and it isn't every day I get the chance of appearing in print alongside of a bishop and a Prime Minister. Sir Evelyn Dent is Jimmy's uncle, isn't he? And he used to be Prime Minister."
"Not quite," said Beth, "but as near as doesn't matter."
"What's the thing about? English history, I suppose. If it's Fair Rosamund we might work in a dance. I could do something graceful in a long skirt which wouldn't shock the bishop, holding the cup of poison in my hand. Your aunt could be Queen Eleanor if she liked. I'd do it for ten pounds and exes."
"Nothing doing in that way, I'm afraid," said Beth. "It's about smugglers."
"Well, there's that Nautch Girl dance of mine. It's not bad at all. And if your aunt can't pay I dare say Jimmy could screw a tenner out of that uncle of his. It would be quite worth it to the show. No feeling of stuffiness about that dance. I should think that pirates—you said pirates, didn't you?"
"Smugglers."
"Much the same thing. Smugglers or pirates are sure to be mixed up with nautch girls, whatever they are. Or at all events girls of some kind. I don't mind calling it a geisha dance if they like. I could borrow a kimono."
"'Lilith lisps,'" said Beth, taking her pen again, "'that among the patrons of the Hailey Compton Smuggling Pageant is Miss Mary Lambert, whose Nautch Girl dance has just delighted London. The wide appeal made by this pageant—the most magnificently staged show ever produced in England—will be understood when it is realised that among those interested, besides Miss Mary Lambert, are Sir Evelyn Dent, the Bishop of ...' remind me afterwards to find out what he's bishop of. 'And....' Now did Aunt Agatha mention anyone else? I can't remember. Anyhow, we'll put in Jimmy. He won't mind. 'The Earl of Colavon, whose name stands facile princeps among our sporting peers of the younger generation.' Thank heaven, there's another lisp. That makes five. If I'd three more I'd be through with the beastly things for this week, and I'd take you out on top of a bus to Kew or somewhere to get a breath of fresh air."