“It’s the Y.P.F.C,” she said. “We badly want funds and the rector suggested that perhaps we might get up a little play. You remember, Jocelyn. It was the night we dined there.”

“I remember something about it,” said the squire.

“Just among ourselves,” continued Miss Prentice, “I know you’ve always loved acting, Jocelyn, and you’re so good at it. So natural. Do you remember Ici on Parle Français in the old days? I’ve talked it all over with the rector and he agrees it’s a splendid idea. Dr. Templett is very good at theatricals, especially in funny parts, and dear Idris Campanula, of course, is all enthusiasm.”

“Good Lord!” ejaculated Henry and his father together.

“What on earth is she going to do in the play?” asked Jocelyn.

“Now, Jocelyn, we mustn’t be uncharitable,” said Miss Prentice, with a cold glint of satisfaction in her eye. “I dare say poor Idris would make quite a success of a small part.”

“I’m too old,” said Jocelyn.

“What nonsense, dear. Of course you’re not. We’ll find something that suits you.”

“I’m damned if I’ll make love to the Campanula,” said the squire, ungallantly. Eleanor assumed her usual expression for the reception of bad language, but it was coloured by that glint of complacency.

“Please, Jocelyn,” she said.

“What’s Dinah going to do?” asked Henry.

“Well, as dear Dinah is almost a professional—”

“She is a professional,” said Henry.

“Such a pity, yes,” said. Miss Prentice.

“Why?”

“I’m old-fashioned enough to think that the stage is not a very nice profession for a gentlewoman, Henry. But of course Dinah must act in our little piece. If she isn’t too grand for such humble efforts.”

Henry opened his mouth and shut it again. The squire said, “Here they are.”

There was the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel drive outside, and two cheerful toots on an out-of-date klaxon.