Boston again cried 'hear, hear!' without fear of check, she did not
applaud, for something told her that behind this stage show a drama
was being played of far more serious importance.

The curtain fell, but there were loud calls for the performers. It
rose, and they presented themselves, Alonso still holding the hands
of the happy pair. The cheering now was vociferous, more
particularly when a wreath was flung at the feet of the young
princess, and Ferdinand, stooping, placed it on her head.

Again the curtain fell, the band struck up some dance music and the
audience were treated to 'something light,' and roared with laughter
at a pretty chambermaid at an inn who captivated and bamboozled a
young booby who was staying there, pitched him overboard; 'wondered
what he meant;' sang an audacious song recounting her many exploits,
and finished with a pas-seul.

The performers and their friends were invited to a sumptuous supper,
and the Fenmarket folk were not at home until half-past two in the
morning. On their way back, Clara broke out against the
juxtaposition of Shakespeare and such vulgarity.

'Much better,' she said, 'to have left the Shakespeare out
altogether. The lesson of the sequence is that each is good in its
way, a perfectly hateful doctrine to me.

Frank and Madge were, however, in the best of humours, especially
Frank, who had taken a glass of wine beyond his customary very
temperate allowance.