things..."

"Why, daddy, I'm going with you to put out your things..."

"But a lady clerk in the War Office, Barbara... a Government
official, as you might say... go behind at a music-hall... it
don't seem proper right. my dear!"

"Nonsense, Mac. Where Is your theatre? Come along. We'll have to
try and get a taxi!"

"They're sending a car at ten to nine, my dear!"

"Good gracious! what swells we are! And it's half-past eight
already! Who is on the bill with you?"

"My dear, I haven't an idea... I'm not very well up in the London
programmes' I'm afraid... but it is sure to be a good programme.
The Palaceum is the only house that's had the courage to break
away from this rotten revue craze!"

Barbara was in the hall now, her arms plunged to the shoulder in
a great basket trunk that smelt faintly of cocoa-butter. Right
and left she flung coats and hats and trousers and band parts,
selecting with a sure eye the properties which Mr. Mackwayte
would require for the sketches he would play that evening. In the
middle of it all the throbbing of a car echoed down the quiet
road outside. Then there came a ring at the front door.

* * * * * *