"Pardon me, ladies," said Miss Sawyer, "but we have drifted away from the work of the great poet."
"Poet!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout. "Was Shakespeare a poet?"
"Certainly," replied Miss Sawyer, impatiently.
"And is this play poetry?"
"Yes, much of it."
"Well!" Mrs. Stout's astonishment equalled her ignorance.
"Do you object greatly to poetry?" asked Mrs. Tweedie.
"Oh, no," replied Mrs. Stout, "poetry is good, like angel-cake, but you can't live on it."
The laugh that followed cleared the atmosphere, and the rehearsal continued. As it progressed the ladies gained courage, and declaimed their lines in what they thought was a professional manner. Miss Sawyer was pleased and beamed on them encouragingly, suggesting now and then a gesture, inflection, or "business," but, despite her efforts to keep them constantly on the dramatic road, digressions were frequent.
"I wonder if Miss Wallace cares anything about Will Flint," said Mrs. Thornton to Mrs. Darling, when they were alone in a corner of the hall waiting their "turn."