“I don’t know that I am in complete agreement with you,” she heard tiresome Professor Vambrace saying; “if we are to have patrons, surely they should be people who have helped our Little Theatre in some way. I cannot recall that Mrs Conquergood has attended a single performance.”

“Ah, but you see,” said Nellie, “if we interest her, she will become a regular supporter.”

“It seems a very ostentatious method of gaining her attention,” said Vambrace, “and if we have to print her name in the programme to get her to come, we might perhaps be better off without her. After all, her dollar is no better than anybody else’s.”

Nellie’s neck flushed; sometimes she thought that Vambrace was no better than a Red. “As though it were her dollar we were after,” she said, reprovingly; and then, with an affectation of serpent-like wisdom, “her name would draw in a good many people of the very type who ought to be interested in the Little Theatre.”

“In that case, perhaps we ought to offer her a part,” said Solly. “Now here, in Act Three, is my favourite stage direction in the whole play: Enter several strange Shapes, bringing in a banquet; she could be a Strange Shape; typecasting. I’ll put it in the form of a motion if you like.”

“Solly, that isn’t the least bit funny,” cried Nellie.

“I didn’t mean it to be,” said Solly, “it’s cold fact.”

“If you can’t do anything but sneer, the sooner you go back to England the better.”

“If you mean that you want me to retire from my job as assistant director of this play, Nellie, I’ll do so gladly. You pushed me into directing, and then you pushed me into assisting, and if you want to push me out altogether you have only to say so.”

“Aw, now Solly, don’t let’s get sore,” said Roscoe; “you know how Nell gets stewed up about things.”

“Roscoe, I don’t,” cried Nellie, near to tears.

“There is no need for anybody to retire from anything, or to go back anywhere,” said Professor Vambrace. “Nor, I think, is there any need for us to head our list of patrons with the name of a person who, whatever her social eminence may be—I am not qualified to speak upon such a point—has never done anything for the Little Theatre.”

“If I may offer my opinion, Professor,” said Hector, “I think there is a good deal in what Mrs Forrester has said. There is powerful rivalry in Salterton society between town and gown, military and civil service, as everybody knows. We are not supposed to have these divisions in a democracy but somehow we have them. As an outsider—a teacher who is neither town nor precisely gown—I can see this perhaps better than you. I have heard it suggested that our Little Theatre is recruited a little more heavily from the Waverley faculty than is acceptable to some quite large groups of people. Of course we know why that is so; the faculty members are perhaps more active in their support of the arts than the military or the business people. But if we hope to offset an impression which I, as treasurer, consider an unfortunate one, we must be very careful about our list of patrons. I believe that we should have such a list, and I believe that it should be headed by some name not associated too closely with any of the principal groups which comprise the city. Mr Webster’s name must come very high. But I agree with Mrs Forrester that the name of Mrs Caesar Augustus Conquergood should come first. I do not know her, but I have heard of her, and I have always heard her spoken of in the highest terms. I don’t mind saying that I think it would have a marked effect at the box-office.”

His hearers were impressed. Hector had all the advantage of the man who speaks infrequently, and whose words carry special weight for that reason. Furthermore, his introduction of the word “box-office” was masterly. Professional theatrical groups occasionally take a fling and perform some work, for sheer love, which they know will not make money; amateur groups never forget the insistency of the till. The notion that Mrs Conquergood’s name might raise the takings was too much for Professor Vambrace, who gave in with an ill grace. The redness departed from Nellie’s neck; she was jubilant, though she tried to conceal it. And she looked upon Hector as an oracle of wisdom.

Nellie’s mind, though busy, was not complex. She had never mastered the simple principle of quid pro quo which was, to Hector’s orderly intelligence, axiomatic. But she received a lesson in it half an hour later when Hector, with well-feigned casualness, said:

“When is the casting for the play to be completed?”

“Oh,” said Nellie, “we are going to have auditions for all the parts later this week.”

“Surely not for all the parts? I understood some time ago that Professor Vambrace was to play Prospero, and Miss Vambrace Miranda, and that Miss Webster was to be Ariel. And I think you told me that young Tasset was to be Ferdinand. I believe that Caliban and the two funny men are also cast?”

“Well, tentatively, but of course we are going to hold a public reading before anything is decided finally.”

“But I think it unlikely that any of those parts will be allotted otherwise?”

“You know how it is,” said Professor Vambrace; “the Little Theatre must give everyone a chance. Still, it is pretty plain that certain people will do certain parts better than anyone else who is likely to turn up. And, frankly, there are some debts to be paid; those who have borne the burden deserve a measure of reward.”

This was an opening which Hector had not foreseen, but he took it with the skill of an experienced politician. The shyness which he felt when he first arrived had quite departed.

“I had thought of that myself,” said he. “I have been treasurer of the Little Theatre for the past six years. When I took it over its books were in a mess; now they are in perfect order and we have a substantial sum in the bank. During the years when I have worked in the box office I have often wondered what it would be like to be with those of you who were enjoying the fun behind the footlights. And if there is a part which I could play in The Tempest, I should like to have it.”

“Why not wait until next year?” said Nellie. “We’re sure to be doing something which would have a part in it for you. You know, something good. A detective, or a policeman, or something.”

“I may not be here next autumn,” said Hector.

“Not here?” Nellie was horrified at the thought that a new treasurer would have to be found.

“No. I have been offered some work by the Department which would take me out of town. If I accept, it will mean beginning work at once. But of course, if I am offered a part in The Tempest I should turn down the Department’s offer for the present, and would be here next season.”

Even Nellie could see what that meant.

“Had you a special part in mind?” she asked.

“It had occurred to me that I might try my hand at Gonzalo. The wise old counsellor,” said Hector, looking around for appreciation of this joke. But there was none. Professor Vambrace felt that in some way he had been finessed, and was trying to figure out where; Nellie was wondering if she had not been wrong, half an hour ago, to feel so warmly toward Hector; why, the man was nothing but a self-seeker and his obvious counting on her support seemed, in some inexplicable way, to dim the brightness of Mrs Caesar Augustus Conquergood. Valentine Rich and Solly had made up their minds independently that it was plain that, whoever cast the play, they were not to be allowed to do it. The gathering had a somewhat stunned and inward-looking air as it ate the sticky buns and coffee which Nellie brought forth, aided by the faithful Roscoe.

Hector ate a bun, and took one cup of coffee, and then made his departure, well pleased with his evening’s work.

When he was gone, Nellie was the first to speak.