"I do not think this is pleasant to see," she said in a low tone. "Would it not be best to go away? I--I think I would rather be at home."
Lady Winsleigh heard and smiled,--a little mocking smile.
"Don't be silly, child!" she said. "If you leave the theatre just now you'll have every one staring at you. That woman's an immense favorite--she is the success of the piece. She's got more diamonds than either you or I."
Thelma regarded her friend with a sort of grave wonder,--but said nothing in reply. If Lady Winsleigh liked the performance and wished to remain, why--then politeness demanded that Thelma should not interfere with her pleasure by taking an abrupt leave. So she resumed her seat, but withdrew herself far behind the curtain of the box, in a corner where the stage was almost invisible to her eyes. Her husband bent over her and whispered-"I'll take you home if you wish it, dear! only say the word."
She shook her head.
"Clara enjoys it!" she answered somewhat plaintively. "We must stay."
Philip was about to address Lady Winsleigh on the subject, when suddenly Neville touched him on the arm.
"Can I speak to you alone for a moment, Sir Philip?" he said in a strange, hoarse whisper. "Outside the box--away from the ladies--a matter of importance!"
He looked as if he were about to faint. He gasped rather than spoke these words; his face was white as death, and his eyes had a confused and bewildered stare.
"Certainly!" answered Philip promptly, though not without an accent of surprise,--and, excusing their absence briefly to his wife and Lady Winsleigh, they left the box together. Meanwhile the well-fed "Humming-Bird" was capering extravagantly before the footlights, pointing her toe in the delighted face of the stalls and singing in a in a loud, coarse voice the following refined ditty-"Oh my ducky, oh my darling, oh my duck, duck, duck! If you love me you must have a little pluck, pluck, pluck! Come and put your arms around me, kiss me once, twice, thrice, For kissing may be naughty, but, by Jingo! it is nice! Once, twice, thrice! Nice, nice, nice! Bliss, bliss, bliss! Kiss, kiss, kiss! Kissing may be naughty, but it's nice!"
There were several verses in this graceful poem, and each one was hailed with enthusiastic applause. The "Humming-Bird" was triumphant, and when her song was concluded she executed a startling pas-seul full of quaint and astonishing surprises, reaching her superbest climax, when she backed off the stage on one portly leg,--kicking the other in regular time to the orchestra. Lady Winsleigh laughed, and leaning towards Thelma, who still sat in her retired corner, said with a show of kindness-"You dear little goose! You must get accustomed to this kind of thing--it takes with the men immensely. Why, even your wonderful Philip has gone down behind the scenes with Neville--you may be sure of that!"