"Be sensible, Harry!" Miss Ethel silenced him. "Peter, Lord Kiscadden has been suddenly called away, and it spoils our tableaux for this evening. Fortunately, he didn't have a speaking part. You've watched him rehearse—do you think you could take his place?"
"Don't believe I could, ma'am." Peter's face did not betray enthusiasm.
"You'll have to do it!" said Miss Ethel. "It's too late now to find anyone else."
"You're George Washington," Mr. Harry cut in. "Father of his country. Only man on earth who never told a lie—no one will recognize you in that part, Peter."
"Here are the clothes." Miss Ethel bundled them into his arms. "You saw Lord Kiscadden this afternoon, so you know how they go. Be sure you get your wig on straight, and powder your face thick! It's half-past seven; you will have to dress immediately."
"I ain't had no supper," Peter stolidly observed.
"Annie will give you something to eat in the kitchen. We won't tell anybody except the few who are with you in the tableaux. The operetta cast have never seen Lord Kiscadden, and won't know the difference. The minute the tableaux are over you can disappear, and we will explain that you have been suddenly called away."
A slow grin spread over Peter's face.
"Are ye wantin' me to talk like him?" he inquired. His lordship's idiom had been the subject of much covert amusement among the servants; Peter could mimic it to perfection.