"No, the difficulty is that we haven't really room for theatricals. We should have to use the drawing-room, and by the time you've got a stage and scenery and rooms for changing, well, there's simply no space left for the audience," explained Cecilia.
"That's no objection at all," I said; "rather an advantage, in fact."
"And anyhow," continued Margery, "we haven't got a play to do."
"And so," said Cecilia, "we've decided to have a concert party."
I gasped.
"Not a concert party," I implored.
"Yes," said Cecilia, "a costume concert party. It isn't any use groaning like that. It's all arranged. Sheila and Arthur Davies, Margery, John, you and I are in it. The question is what are you going to do?"
"Nothing. I never heard of such a horrible idea."
"Don't be a pig, Alan," said Margery.
"Really, Cecilia," I said, "let me plead with you. Not a costume concert party, please. A simple glee perhaps—just four of us—in evening dress; or even a conjurer. I'll agree to anything. But not, not Pierrots, Cecilia."