"Well," began Cecilia, "Christmas is coming and we shall be full up."
"Of course, of course," I murmured deprecatingly. "You want me to get
some medicine ready for you?"
"I mean the house will be full up," explained Cecilia coldly.
"The point is we must arrange something beforehand--some sort of
entertainment."
"Good heavens," I said, "you're not going to hire the Sisters
Sprightly or anything, are you?"
"No, we are not," said Cecilia; "not the Sisters Sprightly nor the
Brothers Bung. We are going to do it ourselves."
"What--a Sisters Sprightly Act? Have a little shame, Cecilia. What
will Christopher think when he sees his mother in a ballet skirt,
kicking about all over the drawing-room?"
"He'd think I looked very nice," said Cecilia hotly, "if I was going
to wear one; but I'm not."
"Not going to wear a ballet skirt?" I said. "You surely don't mean to
appear in----"
"We're not going to do a Sisters Sprightly turn at all," shouted
Margery: "nobody ever thought of them but you."
"Then I give it up," I said helplessly; "I quite understood you to
say---- Then what are you going to do, anyway?"
"Well, we thought at first we'd do a play, but there were difficulties
in the way."
"Too true," I said; "none of us can act to begin with."
"Speak for yourself," said Margery.
"Pardon, Miss Thorndike," I apologised.
"No, the difficulty is that we haven't really room for theatricals.
We should have to use the drawing-room, and by the time you've got
a stage and scenery and rooms for changing, well, there's simply no
space left for the audience," explained Cecilia.
"That's no objection at all," I said; "rather an advantage, in fact."
"And anyhow," continued Margery, "we haven't got a play to do."
"And so," said Cecilia, "we've decided to have a concert party."