“Well, did you ever hear anything like that?” she cried. “He simply put a pistol to our heads; he plays Gonzalo or we can get a new treasurer.”

“The way I look at it, it was a kind of a deal, hon,” said the artless Roscoe. “He supported you about the patrons, and then you had to support him about the part he wanted. It’s nothing to worry about; happens in business and politics every day.”

“This isn’t business or politics, Roscoe. We’ve got our audiences to think about. For anything I know, this man has never acted before. Val, why didn’t you step in and veto it? You could. You’re director.”

“Really, Nell, the casting seems to be so much in the hands of the local committee that I saw no reason to interfere.”

“But he’s so obviously unsuitable.”

“We don’t know that yet. We can always change in the early rehearsals if he’s too bad.”

“Val, this isn’t professional theatre. You can’t kick people out like that. So the only possible thing is to keep unsuitable ones from getting in.”

“When once particular personal interests begin to be consulted, artistic integrity flies out at the window,” said Professor Vambrace darkly.

“If that is meant to have any bearing on the arrangement of the patrons’ list, I want to say here and now that I am acting only for the good of the Little Theatre.” Nellie confronted him, bravely but with tears in her eyes.

The Professor lolled his large, bushy head about on the back of his chair, and made gestures with his heavy eyebrows. “In that case, there is nothing more to be said about the matter,” replied he.

“Yes, there is,” said Nellie, shaken with emotion; “we’ve got to have some fairly good-sized parts to allot among all those people who are coming to the try-out reading on Thursday night. I was counting on Gonzalo as a nice little plum for somebody—something that would stop everybody saying that the casting of all the good parts is done by the committee beforehand—and now that man has just grabbed it. If s awful!”

“I still don’t see what’s so awful about it, hon,” said Roscoe, pacifically. “What makes you think he’ll be so much worse than the others?”

This crass comment caused Professor Vambrace to close his eyes.

“That’s a very good question,” said Solly.

“Oh it’s all very well for you all to sit around and sneer,” wailed Nellie, and burst into tears.

Roscoe took her hand and patted it. “Take it easy, hon,” said he; “it’ll all be the same in a hundred years.”

There was some embarrassment, but not very much, at Nellie’s breakdown; most of the people present had seen her weep before, for reasons less easily understandable. But it seemed to put a period to a dull and exasperating evening, and they took their departure.

Professor Vambrace quickly swung away into the night; he was a man who genuinely liked walking, and his feet and the heavy ash walking stick which he carried seemed to spurn the ground. Valentine and Solly climbed into Griselda’s car.

“Shall we drive for a while?” asked Griselda.

“I should like that more than anything,” said Valentine Rich.

It was not until they had left the city and were driving by the river that Solly spoke.

“I can’t imagine what Nellie was making such a fuss about,” said he.

“You were very naughty about Mrs Conquergood,” said Griselda.

“Well, damn it, I squirm at that kind of thing. Why is it that a supposedly democratic country is so eaten up with snobbery of one sort and another?”

“Everybody has their own kind of snobbery. I suspect you of being an intellectual snob, Solly.”

“Well, what about you? You’re rich—so rich, if you want to know, that I didn’t dare call you a few nights ago because I didn’t think I could entertain you suitably—and everybody that wants to know you and doesn’t is sure that you’re a shrieking snob.”

“I am the humblest of God’s little ones,” said Griselda, passing another car a shade too closely.

“Anyhow, Nellie’s fantod had nothing to do with me or Old Ma Conquergood. She was angry because Mackilwraith suddenly wanted to act. I don’t see why he shouldn’t. He’s done a good job as treasurer, and I suppose he wants some of the glory of acting. He wants to be one of the gaudy folk of the theatre, weaving a tissue of enchantment for Mrs Caesar Augustus Conquergood and your father. Poor old cow, he’s stage-struck. And at his age, too!”

“I rather liked him,” said Valentine. “I thought it was sweet the way he came in pretending that he was passing by, and then popping out his bid for a part so neatly. I have a soft spot for people who are stage-struck. Next autumn I shall have been in the professional theatre for eighteen years, and I’m still stage-struck.”

“Heavens,” said Griselda, “you must have started just when I was born. I’m sorry, that sounded rude.”

“I am thirty-six,” said Valentine; “I was your age when I got my first job.”

“Did you have an awful struggle?” asked Griselda; “I mean with your family, and getting a job, and all that.”

“No, I didn’t. When I told my grandfather I wanted to be an actress he was most kind and sympathetic. And in those days there were some good stock companies, and I was able to get a job in one of them. And I’ve never really had much difficulty about jobs since, which is lucky, because it’s chancy work. But I’ve always been willing to go outside New York, you see, and that makes a difference. And I’ve done some directing, which is helpful. So it has really been a very busy eighteen years. No, oddly enough, the only people who were discouraging were my friends. Nellie, for instance, was sure I’d never manage to get along.”

“If you don’t mind saying,” said Solly, “how did you get sucked in for directing The Tempest here? I mean, you probably don’t look on it as the crown of your career. What made you say yes?”

“Well you see, I’m at that funny point in my life where I’m important enough to be asked to do favours, but not important enough to be able to refuse them without giving offence. When Nell found out that I was coming back to Salterton this summer, she wrote at once.”

“And you couldn’t refuse an old friend?”

“I couldn’t refuse someone whom I had once known, very easily. Of course, I hadn’t seen her for ten or twelve years.”

“Really? I rather gathered from what she said that she might have given you your start.”

“No, no; we were friends as girls, though never very close.”

“That’s very interesting, in the light of what we have heard.”

“It’s fantastic to think of you and Mrs Forrester being about the same age,” said Griselda.

“We are, none the less. In fact, she is a few months younger,”

“I suppose the responsibility of the Salterton Little Theatre is what has worn her down,” said Solly.

“Don’t be horrid,” said Griselda.

“Why not? You implied that Nellie looks years older than Miss Rich.”

“I know, but it’s different, coming from a man.”

“What has got into you, Griselda?” said Solly. “You’ve gone all mealy-mouthed and hypocritical.”

“I’m blossoming into womanhood,” said Griselda, “and I have to be very careful about what I say. Daddy was mentioning it just a day or two ago. He said that people would take it amiss if I said what I really thought; he said a woman had to be at least forty-five before she dared risk an honest expression of opinion.”

When they had dropped Valentine at her hotel, Griselda said to Solly: “Would you like to come home? What about something more to eat or drink?”

“You should never ask anyone to have anything more,” said Solly, “for it implies that they have had perceptible refreshment already, which is rude. If you are going to make such a hullabaloo about your womanhood, you must be careful of these niceties.”