"P'raps," tremulous hope sounded in her voice, "p'raps you'd like me to show people to their seats?"
"N-no," he said slowly, "I really don't think there's any office I need filling."
He stared distressed at the woeful face of Sheila Pat. He polished his glasses with a queer nervousness, this quick-tempered little man before whom so many grown-ups had trembled.
"I—" with a trembling burst of desperation, "I could fill the coal skuttles!"
He came over and, drawing up a chair, sat down beside her.
"Will you tell me why you want to—er—fulfil all these menial offices?" he asked gently.
She slid off her chair.
"It was to hear Denis, you see. Good-bye, Mr. Yovil."
"But—why not come with your brother?"
"Nell's comin', and you're full up. Molly doesn't want to, anyway, because there'd be so many boys starin'."