"Real business, you know," I added, "with nobody but ourselves. Nobody coming in to interrupt."
"Of course," said Philip; "but I'll do more than that, Isobel. There's the scene—"
"We'll finish the scene," said I, "if you don't aggravate Alice so that I lose her help as well as yours."
Alice was very sulky, which I could hardly wonder at, and I worked alone, except for Bobby, the only one with anything like a good temper among us, who roasted himself very patiently with my size-pot, and hammered bits of ivy, and of his fingers, rather neatly over the cave. But Alice was impulsive and kind-hearted. When I got a bad headache, from working too long, she came round, and helped me. Philip was always going to do so, but as a matter of fact he went out every day with the old fowling-piece for which he had given his dressing case.
When the ice bore Charles also deserted us, but Alice and I worked steadily on at dresses and scenery. And Bobby worked with us.
The 5th of January arrived, the day before the theatricals. Philip spent the morning in cleaning his gun, and after luncheon he brought it into the nursery to "finish" with a peculiarly aggravating air.
"When shall you be ready to rehearse?" I asked.
"Oh, presently," said Philip, "there's plenty of time yet. It's a great nuisance," he added, "I'll never have anything to do with theatricals again. They make a perfect slave of one."
"You've not slaved much, at any rate," said Charles.
"You'd better not give me any of your cheek," said Philip threateningly.