Shelley”—­here he lifted his hat and replaced it—­“a new Peneus does not roll his fountains against the morning star, whatever that precise—­er—­operation may have been.  But let us honour the aspiration, Smiles, though the chill monitor within forbid us to endorse it.  ‘A loftier Argo’”—­Mr. Mortimer indicated the Success to Commerce with a sweep of the hand—­

   “A loftier Argo cleaves the main
    Fraught with a later prize;
  Another Orpheus—­you’ll excuse the comparison—­sings again,
    And loves, and weeps—­and dies.”

“Stanislas, you have not forgotten the eggs, I hope?” interposed the voice of Mrs. Mortimer from the cabin.

“I have not, my bud.  Moreover, as I was just explaining to our friend, I have secured a Pou Sto—­a hall, my chick—­or perhaps it might be defined more precisely as a—­er—­loft.  It served formerly—­or, as the poets would say, whilom—­as a barracks for the Salvation Army; in more recent times as a store for—­er—­superphosphates.  But it is commodious, and possesses a side-chamber which will serve us admirably for a green-room when the proprietor—­an affable person by the name of Tench—­ has removed the onions at present drying on the floor; which he has engaged to do.”

“Are you tellin’ me,” inquired Sam, “that you’ve been and ’ired the room?”

“At the derisory charge of four-and-six for the night.  As a business man, I believe in striking while the iron is hot.  Indeed, while we are on the subject, I may mention that I have ordered the bills. Professor and Madame St. Maw—­my Arabella will, I know, forgive my reverting to the name under which she won her maiden laurels—­it cost me a pang, my dear Smiles, to reflect that the fame to be won here, the honour of having popularised HIM, here on the confines of his native Arden, will never be associated with the name of Mortimer. Sic vos non vobis, as the Mantuan has poignantly observed.  But for the sake of the children—­ and, by the way, how do my bantlings find themselves this morning?  Tol-lollish, I trust?—­for the sake of the children it was necessary, as we used to say with the Pytchley, to obscure ’the scent.  Talking of scent, Smiles, it might be advisable—­what with the superphosphates and the onions—­to take some counteracting steps, which your ingenuity may be able to suggest.  The superphosphates especially are—­er—­potent.  And, by one of those coincidences we meet, perhaps, oftener than we note, Mr. Tench’s initial is ’S’—­standing for Samuel.”

Mr. Mortimer extracted an egg from his basket and rubbed it with his bandanna thoughtfully before passing it down to his wife.

“So you’ve been an’ ordered the bills too?” murmured Mr. Bossom.  “And what will the bills run to?—­if, as the treasurer, I may make so bold.”

“To the sum of five shillings precisely, which will, of course, be hypothecated as a first charge upon our takings, and which I ask you, my dear Smiles, as treasurer to debit to that account in due form, here and now.”  It would have been hard to conceive any manner more impressively business-like than Mr. Mortimer’s as he made this demand.  “You will excuse my putting it so plainly, Smiles, but I may venture a guess that in the matter of conducting a theatrical tour you are, comparatively speaking, a tiro?”