shall sing my chappie's song downstairs one night during dinner. How about it? Is it or is it not a ball of fire?"
"It's not a bad idea," admitted Bill, brightening visibly. "I wouldn't have thought you had it in you."
"Why not?"
"Well"
"It's a capital idea," said Lucille. "Quite out of the question, of course."
"How do you mean?"
"Don't you know that the one thing father hates more than anything else in the world is anything like a cabaret? People are always coming to him, suggesting that it would brighten up the dinner hour if he had singers and things, and he crushes them into little bits. He thinks there's nothing that lowers the tone of a place more. He'll bite you in three places when you suggest it to him!"
"Ah! But has it escaped your notice, lighting system of my soul, that the dear old dad is not at present in residence? He went off to fish at Lake What's-its-name this morning."
"You aren't dreaming of doing this without asking him?"
"That was the general idea."
"But he'll be furious when he finds out."
"But will he find out? I ask you, will he?"
"Of course he will."
"I don't see why he should," said Bill, on whose plastic mind the plan had made a deep impression.
"He won't," said Archie, confidently. "This wheeze is for one night only. By the time the jolly old guv'nor returns, bitten to the bone by mosquitoes, with one small stuffed trout in his suit-case, everything will be over and
