"At the dress-rehearsal the night before the performance we debated the weather prospects until the moon rose. Lysander said his bit of seaweed which he brought from Bognor was as dry as parched peas and he would back it against any fool barometer. Cocklewhite, our prompter, said he didn't want to depress the company, but he had a leech in a bottle of water which rose for fine weather and sank for wet, and he was bound to tell us it was like lead at the bottom at the present moment. Hermia pointed to the heavens, 'Red sky at night shepherds' delight,' she quoted. There was no getting away from the swallows; they were nose-diving to a bird. 'Hang swallows,' Oberon said; 'put your trust in mosquitoes. Look at my eyelid.'
"'It's no good talking,' Theseus said; 'nobody can tell until the morning, and then it'll be up to Bottom to decide by 11.30 whether it's to be indoors or out. He's our stage-manager and we know his arrangements in case of rain. They're the only arrangements possible in our little village, and it's going to be a nightmare instead of a dream if they have to be carried out. But we can depend upon Bottom to make a wise decision. He'll notify us and the boy-scouts will notify the audience. All we've got to do is not to grouse.'
"Cocklewhite said he would phone me the position of his leech at 9 a.m., and Lysander promised to report any change in the condition of the seaweed. I set our glass and Titania and I got up at half-hour intervals during the night and tapped it. It refused to budge either way.
"At dawn Titania looked out of the window and gave a wild cry. 'Red sky in the morning shepherds' warning,' she wailed. At breakfast Cocklewhite phoned that his leech was dead, and he had strong suspicions it had died from atmospheric pressure. Almost at the same moment Lysander sent word that his seaweed had gone clammy during the night. Half-an-hour later came a clap of thunder and the drops of rain I mentioned. I needn't go on. You can guess the rest."
Melhuish paused.
"But the performance came off, didn't it?" I said.
"Yes, in the Parish Hall. It was a perfect day for a pastoral."
Profiteer. "I want you to paint me with a book in my 'and and my valet standin' unobtrusively in the background in case I might wish to call 'im."