AS MRS. BRYCE and Wally came out from luncheon, they beheld the first consignment of friends and relatives, a motor car full from the Pages.
“We’ve come to the matineé,” laughed Mrs. Page.
“It’s ridiculous of you,” retorted her hostess.
“I would not have missed it for anything,” said Martin Christiansen.
“I hear she invited you to play Carton,” jeered Wally.
“I never was more flattered in my life. But I persuaded her that I was not the type.”
Other motors began to arrive with beaming parents, and excited children. The terrace was almost crowded when finally, after much delay, and trips to and from the house, Teddy Horton rushed into view, announcing through a megaphone that the doors of the Isabelle Theatre were open. Everybody strolled toward the garage and soon all the “stalls” were full.
Isabelle appeared before the sheets which served as curtain. She was pale, composed, and in deadly earnest.
“Fathers and mothers, and ladies and gentlemen,” she began, “we are going to give a play called ‘A Tale of Two Cities,’ by Charles Dickens and me.”
She was undisturbed by their laughter and applause.