Punch, or the London Charivari | Page 7

want to know is what are you going to do?"
"Well," I said, "I did think of sitting by the fire and--er--just watching it burn."
"Oh, dear," said Margery, "please don't be dense. I mean, what are you going to do at the show?"
I passed my hand over my eyes.
"I'm sorry," I said; "I'm afraid I don't.... Have I been to sleep for ten years or anything?"
"Tell him," said Margery impatiently. "You'll have to start right at the beginning."
I sat down expectantly.
"Well," began Cecilia, "Christmas is coming and we shall be full up."
"Of course, of course," I murmured deprecatingly. "You want me to get some medicine ready for you?"
"I mean the house will be full up," explained Cecilia coldly. "The point is we must arrange something beforehand--some sort of entertainment."
"Good heavens," I said, "you're not going to hire the Sisters Sprightly or anything, are you?"
"No, we are not," said Cecilia; "not the Sisters Sprightly nor the Brothers Bung. We are going to do it ourselves."
"What--a Sisters Sprightly Act? Have a little shame, Cecilia. What will Christopher think when he sees his mother in a ballet skirt, kicking about all over the drawing-room?"
"He'd think I looked very nice," said Cecilia hotly, "if I was going to wear one; but I'm not."
"Not going to wear a ballet skirt?" I said. "You surely don't mean to appear in----"
"We're not going to do a Sisters Sprightly turn at all," shouted Margery: "nobody ever thought of them but you."
"Then I give it up," I said helplessly; "I quite understood you to say---- Then what are you going to do, anyway?"
"Well, we thought at first we'd do a play, but there were difficulties in the way."
"Too true," I said; "none of us can act to begin with."
"Speak for yourself," said Margery.
"Pardon, Miss Thorndike," I apologised.
"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."
"Pierrots it is," said Cecilia defiantly.
"Then I wash my hands of it. To think that our family----"
"You can wash your hands if you like," said Cecilia; "we should prefer it, in fact; but you are certainly going to take part."
I know the futility of arguing with Cecilia.
"Then tell me the worst," I begged; "what am I to be? Can I show people to their seats, or am I the good-looking tenor with gentlemanly features and long hair?"
"We thought of making you the funny man," said Cecilia.
I buried my head in my hands and shuddered.
At this moment John came into the room. "Talking about the 'Merry Maggots'?" he said. "Splendid idea of Cecilia's, isn't it? I've just been thinking it over, and what we must decide on first of all is who is to be the--the humourist. He's the really important man; must be someone really first-class."
"We've also been discussing it," I said quickly, "and we came to the conclusion that there's only one man for the job--yourself."
John nodded complacently.
"I'm glad to hear you say so, because I was going to suggest it myself. It's my belief that I should be a devilish funny fellow if I had a chance. I've just tried a few jokes on myself upstairs, and I've been simply roaring with laughter. Haven't enjoyed myself so much for years."
"Splendid fellow!" I said heartily; "you shall tell them to me later on and I'll roar with laughter too. Cecilia, put your husband down for the funny man."
"H'm--humourist," corrected John with a slight cough.
"'Humourist,'" I agreed; "and thank goodness that's settled."
"But," said Cecilia, "you said you were going to do a dramatic recitation."
"So I am, so I am," said John; "I'm going to do that as well. Contrast, my dear Cecilia. Laughter and tears. Double them up with sly wit one moment and have them sobbing into their handkerchiefs the next. I'm going to do it all, Cecilia."
"So it appears," said Cecilia; "it hardly seems worth while to have anybody else in the show."
"Now, now," said John,