This day was not one of those days, as you will have noticed. Even the tea in the garden there was a bricked bit by a rockery that made a steady floor for the tea-table was most delightful, though the thoughts of four out of the five were busy with the coming play, and the fifth had thoughts of her own that had had nothing to do with tea or acting.
Then there was an interval of slamming doors, interesting silences, feet that flew up and down stairs.
It was still good daylight when the dinner-bell rang the signal had been agreed upon at tea-time, and carefully explained to Eliza. Mademoiselle laid down her book and passed out of the sunset-yellowed hail into the faint yellow gaslight of the dining-room. The giggling Eliza held the door open before her, and followed her in. The shutters ha
