"And never shall I forget Bob's rudeness and yours that evening, Pauline, and the way you and he sat in a corner and sniggered; it was the most unladylike thing I ever saw in my life. I can tell you my husband thought so too."
"Oh, well, don't bother about that now, but go and dress for dinner! I daresay it was unladylike; but I know I couldn't help it. I have a much keener sense of the ridiculous than you, Addie, you know. Oh, by the bye, I forgot to tell you that Flo Wynyard and a cousin, a very jolly girl who is staying on a visit with her, are coming over to-morrow to remain until Tom returns; they'll keep us alive at any rate, and it will be very convenient for the rehearsals, our being together."
"More convenient still if we put the whole company up until he returns; they are only seventeen, I believe, including the supers. Better consult Robert!"
But this bit of sarcasm is quite lost on Miss Pauline, who only laughs and admits that it would be very jolly; she fears, however, that the whole company would not agree under one roof, particularly as four or five of the leading men are awfully spooney on her and unpleasantly jealous of one another.
Here the gracious voice of Robert receiving "our fellows" in the hall recalls Addie to her duty. She goes upstairs, puts on her dinner-dress, and re-appears, as sulky and uninviting a little hostess as one would care to see; but Pauline's smile and Robert's cordiality, flavored with the renowned Burgundy, fully make up for her lack of courtesy; and her guests pay no more attention to her, give no more heed to her somber looks than if she were a marble effigy of "Gloom."
CHAPTER XX.
"No, no, Mrs. Armstrong—impossible. We can't let you in. Manager's orders can't be questioned. No admittance except on business. And you have none, Addie; so be off!"
It is the last dress rehearsal before the final performance; and the company have unanimously elected that it shall take place at Nutsgrove, being a more central position, they argue, and there being more fun to be had there than under the superintendence of old General and Mrs. Hawksby, who have got up the theatricals for the amusement of their eldest son and daughter. So the school-room is converted into a green-room and the drawing-room turned topsy-turvy to represent as nearly as possible the stage-arrangement at New Hall, the Hawksby's place.
"You might very well let me in," grumbles Addie. "What harm will it do for me to see you dressed? It's nonsense!"