But the guests knew nothing of these trivial disagreements, and at ten o'clock last night it would have been difficult to match Rowardennan Castle for a scene of beauty and revelry.
Everything went merrily till we came to Hynde Horn, the concluding tableau, and the most effective and elaborate one on the programme.
At the very last moment, when the opening scene was nearly ready, Jean Dalziel fell down a secret staircase that led from the tapestry chamber into Lady Ardmore's boudoir, where the rest of us were dressing.

It was a short flight of steps, but as she held a candle, and was carrying her costume, she fell awkwardly, spraining her wrist and ankle.

Finding that she was not maimed for life, Lady Ardmore turned with comical and unsympathetic haste to Francesca, so completely do amateur theatricals dry the milk of kindness in the human breast.
"Put on these clothes at once," she said imperiously, knowing nothing of the volcanoes beneath the surface.

"Hynde Horn is already on the stage, and somebody must be Jean.

Take care of Miss Dalziel, girls, and ring for more maids.