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About the Author
Best-selling author Herbert Schildt has written extensively about
programming for over three decades and is a leading authority on
the Java language. His books have sold millions of copies worldwide
and have been translated into all major foreign languages. He is the
author of numerous books on Java, including Java: A Beginner’s
Guide, Herb Schildt’s Java Programming Cookbook, Introducing
JavaFX 8 Programming, and Swing: A Beginner’s Guide. He has also
written extensively about C, C++, and C#. Although interested in all
facets of computing, his primary focus is computer languages.
Schildt holds both graduate and undergraduate degrees from the
University of Illinois. His website is www.HerbSchildt.com.

About the Technical Editor

Dr. Danny Coward has worked on all editions of the Java platform.
He led the definition of Java Servlets into the first version of the Java
EE platform and beyond, web services into the Java ME platform,
and the strategy and planning for Java SE 7. He founded JavaFX
technology and, most recently, designed the largest addition to the
Java EE 7 standard, the Java WebSocket API. From coding in Java,
to designing APIs with industry experts, to serving for several years
as an executive to the Java Community Process, he has a uniquely
broad perspective into multiple aspects of Java technology. In
addition, he is the author of two books on Java programming: Java
WebSocket Programming and Java EE: The Big Picture. Most
recently, he has been applying his knowledge of Java to solving
problems in the field of robotics. Dr. Coward holds a bachelor’s,
master’s, and doctorate in mathematics from the University of
Oxford.
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Contents at a Glance
Part I The Java Language
1 The History and Evolution of Java
2 An Overview of Java
3 Data Types, Variables, and Arrays
4 Operators
5 Control Statements
6 Introducing Classes
7 A Closer Look at Methods and Classes
8 Inheritance
9 Packages and Interfaces
10 Exception Handling
11 Multithreaded Programming
12 Enumerations, Autoboxing, and Annotations
13 I/O, Try-with-Resources, and Other Topics
14 Generics
15 Lambda Expressions
16 Modules
Part II The Java Library
17 String Handling
18 Exploring java.lang
19 java.util Part 1: The Collections Framework
20 java.util Part 2: More Utility Classes
21 Input/Output: Exploring java.io
22 Exploring NIO
23 Networking
 24 Event Handling
25 Introducing the AWT: Working with Windows, Graphics,
and Text
26 Using AWT Controls, Layout Managers, and Menus
27 Images
28 The Concurrency Utilities
29 The Stream API
30 Regular Expressions and Other Packages
Part III Introducing GUI Programming with Swing
31 Introducing Swing
32 Exploring Swing
33 Introducing Swing Menus
Part IV Applying Java
34 Java Beans
35 Introducing Servlets
Part V Appendixes
A Using Java’s Documentation Comments
B Introducing JShell
C Compile and Run Simple Single-File Programs in One Step

Index
Contents
Preface

Part I The Java Language

Chapter 1 The History and Evolution of Java
Java’s Lineage
The Birth of Modern Programming: C
C++: The Next Step
The Stage Is Set for Java
The Creation of Java
The C# Connection
How Java Impacted the Internet
Java Applets
Security
Portability
Java’s Magic: The Bytecode
Moving Beyond Applets
A Faster Release Schedule
Servlets: Java on the Server Side
The Java Buzzwords
Simple
Object-Oriented
Robust
Multithreaded
Architecture-Neutral
 Interpreted and High Performance
Distributed
Dynamic
The Evolution of Java
A Culture of Innovation
Chapter 2 An Overview of Java
Object-Oriented Programming
Two Paradigms
Abstraction
The Three OOP Principles
A First Simple Program
Entering the Program
Compiling the Program
A Closer Look at the First Sample Program
A Second Short Program
Two Control Statements
The if Statement
The for Loop
Using Blocks of Code
Lexical Issues
Whitespace
Identifiers
Literals
Comments
Separators
The Java Keywords
The Java Class Libraries
Chapter 3 Data Types, Variables, and Arrays
Java Is a Strongly Typed Language
The Primitive Types
Integers
byte
short
int
long
Floating-Point Types
float
double
Characters
Booleans
A Closer Look at Literals
Integer Literals
Floating-Point Literals
Boolean Literals
Character Literals
String Literals
Variables
Declaring a Variable
Dynamic Initialization
The Scope and Lifetime of Variables
Type Conversion and Casting
Java’s Automatic Conversions
Casting Incompatible Types
Automatic Type Promotion in Expressions
The Type Promotion Rules
Arrays
One-Dimensional Arrays
Multidimensional Arrays
 Alternative Array Declaration Syntax
Introducing Type Inference with Local Variables
Some var Restrictions
A Few Words About Strings
Chapter 4 Operators
Arithmetic Operators
The Basic Arithmetic Operators
The Modulus Operator
Arithmetic Compound Assignment Operators
Increment and Decrement
The Bitwise Operators
The Bitwise Logical Operators
The Left Shift
The Right Shift
The Unsigned Right Shift
Bitwise Operator Compound Assignments
Relational Operators
Boolean Logical Operators
Short-Circuit Logical Operators
The Assignment Operator
The ? Operator
Operator Precedence
Using Parentheses
Chapter 5 Control Statements
Java’s Selection Statements
if
switch
Iteration Statements
while
 do-while
for
The For-Each Version of the for Loop
Local Variable Type Inference in a for Loop
Nested Loops
Jump Statements
Using break
Using continue
Chapter 6 Introducing Classes
Class Fundamentals
The General Form of a Class
A Simple Class
Declaring Objects
A Closer Look at new
Assigning Object Reference Variables
Introducing Methods
Adding a Method to the Box Class
Returning a Value
Adding a Method That Takes Parameters
Constructors
Parameterized Constructors
The this Keyword
Instance Variable Hiding
Garbage Collection
A Stack Class
Chapter 7 A Closer Look at Methods and Classes
Overloading Methods
Overloading Constructors
Using Objects as Parameters
 A Closer Look at Argument Passing
Returning Objects
Recursion
Introducing Access Control
Understanding static
Introducing final
Arrays Revisited
Introducing Nested and Inner Classes
Exploring the String Class
Using Command-Line Arguments
Varargs: Variable-Length Arguments
Overloading Vararg Methods
Varargs and Ambiguity
Local Variable Type Inference with Reference Types
Chapter 8 Inheritance
Inheritance Basics
Member Access and Inheritance
A More Practical Example
A Superclass Variable Can Reference a Subclass
Object
Using super
Using super to Call Superclass Constructors
A Second Use for super
Creating a Multilevel Hierarchy
When Constructors Are Executed
Method Overriding
Dynamic Method Dispatch
Why Overridden Methods?
Applying Method Overriding
 Using Abstract Classes
Using final with Inheritance
Using final to Prevent Overriding
Using final to Prevent Inheritance
Local Variable Type Inference and Inheritance
The Object Class
Chapter 9 Packages and Interfaces
Packages
Defining a Package
Finding Packages and CLASSPATH
A Short Package Example
Packages and Member Access
An Access Example
Importing Packages
Interfaces
Defining an Interface
Implementing Interfaces
Nested Interfaces
Applying Interfaces
Variables in Interfaces
Interfaces Can Be Extended
Default Interface Methods
Default Method Fundamentals
A More Practical Example
Multiple Inheritance Issues
Use static Methods in an Interface
Private Interface Methods
Final Thoughts on Packages and Interfaces
Chapter 10 Exception Handling
 Exception-Handling Fundamentals
Exception Types
Uncaught Exceptions
Using try and catch
Displaying a Description of an Exception
Multiple catch Clauses
Nested try Statements
throw
throws
finally
Java’s Built-in Exceptions
Creating Your Own Exception Subclasses
Chained Exceptions
Three Additional Exception Features
Using Exceptions
Chapter 11 Multithreaded Programming
The Java Thread Model
Thread Priorities
Synchronization
Messaging
The Thread Class and the Runnable Interface
The Main Thread
Creating a Thread
Implementing Runnable
Extending Thread
Choosing an Approach
Creating Multiple Threads
Using isAlive( ) and join( )
Thread Priorities
 Synchronization
Using Synchronized Methods
The synchronized Statement
Interthread Communication
Deadlock
Suspending, Resuming, and Stopping Threads
Obtaining a Thread’s State
Using a Factory Method to Create and Start a Thread
Using Multithreading
Chapter 12 Enumerations, Autoboxing, and Annotations
Enumerations
Enumeration Fundamentals
The values( ) and valueOf( ) Methods
Java Enumerations Are Class Types
Enumerations Inherit Enum
Another Enumeration Example
Type Wrappers
Character
Boolean
The Numeric Type Wrappers
Autoboxing
Autoboxing and Methods
Autoboxing/Unboxing Occurs in Expressions
Autoboxing/Unboxing Boolean and Character Values
Autoboxing/Unboxing Helps Prevent Errors
A Word of Warning
Annotations
Annotation Basics
Specifying a Retention Policy
 Obtaining Annotations at Run Time by Use of
Reflection
The AnnotatedElement Interface
Using Default Values
Marker Annotations
Single-Member Annotations
The Built-In Annotations
Type Annotations
Repeating Annotations
Some Restrictions
Chapter 13 I/O, Try-with-Resources, and Other Topics
I/O Basics
Streams
Byte Streams and Character Streams
The Predefined Streams
Reading Console Input
Reading Characters
Reading Strings
Writing Console Output
The PrintWriter Class
Reading and Writing Files
Automatically Closing a File
The transient and volatile Modifiers
Using instanceof
strictfp
Native Methods
Using assert
Assertion Enabling and Disabling Options
Static Import
 Invoking Overloaded Constructors Through this( )
A Word About Compact API Profiles
Chapter 14 Generics
What Are Generics?
A Simple Generics Example
Generics Work Only with Reference Types
Generic Types Differ Based on Their Type
Arguments
How Generics Improve Type Safety
A Generic Class with Two Type Parameters
The General Form of a Generic Class
Bounded Types
Using Wildcard Arguments
Bounded Wildcards
Creating a Generic Method
Generic Constructors
Generic Interfaces
Raw Types and Legacy Code
Generic Class Hierarchies
Using a Generic Superclass
A Generic Subclass
Run-Time Type Comparisons Within a Generic
Hierarchy
Casting
Overriding Methods in a Generic Class
Type Inference with Generics
Local Variable Type Inference and Generics
Erasure
Bridge Methods
 Ambiguity Errors
Some Generic Restrictions
Type Parameters Can’t Be Instantiated
Restrictions on Static Members
Generic Array Restrictions
Generic Exception Restriction
Chapter 15 Lambda Expressions
Introducing Lambda Expressions
Lambda Expression Fundamentals
Functional Interfaces
Some Lambda Expression Examples
Block Lambda Expressions
Generic Functional Interfaces
Passing Lambda Expressions as Arguments
Lambda Expressions and Exceptions
Lambda Expressions and Variable Capture
Method References
Method References to static Methods
Method References to Instance Methods
Method References with Generics
Constructor References
Predefined Functional Interfaces
Chapter 16 Modules
Module Basics
A Simple Module Example
Compile and Run the First Module Example
A Closer Look at requires and exports
java.base and the Platform Modules
Legacy Code and the Unnamed Module
 Exporting to a Specific Module
Using requires transitive
Use Services
Service and Service Provider Basics
The Service-Based Keywords
A Module-Based Service Example
Module Graphs
Three Specialized Module Features
Open Modules
The opens Statement
requires static
Introducing jlink and Module JAR Files
Linking Files in an Exploded Directory
Linking Modular JAR Files
JMOD Files
A Brief Word About Layers and Automatic Modules
Final Thoughts on Modules

Part II The Java Library

Chapter 17 String Handling
The String Constructors
String Length
Special String Operations
String Literals
String Concatenation
String Concatenation with Other Data Types
String Conversion and toString( )
Character Extraction
charAt( )
 getChars( )
getBytes( )
toCharArray( )
String Comparison
equals( ) and equalsIgnoreCase( )
regionMatches( )
startsWith( ) and endsWith( )
equals( ) Versus ==
compareTo( )
Searching Strings
Modifying a String
substring( )
concat( )
replace( )
trim( ) and strip( )
Data Conversion Using valueOf( )
Changing the Case of Characters Within a String
Joining Strings
Additional String Methods
StringBuffer
StringBuffer Constructors
length( ) and capacity( )
ensureCapacity( )
setLength( )
charAt( ) and setCharAt( )
getChars( )
append( )
insert( )
reverse( )
 delete( ) and deleteCharAt( )
replace( )
substring( )
Additional StringBuffer Methods
StringBuilder
Chapter 18 Exploring java.lang
Primitive Type Wrappers
Number
Double and Float
Understanding isInfinite( ) and isNaN( )
Byte, Short, Integer, and Long
Character
Additions to Character for Unicode Code Point
Support
Boolean
Void
Process
Runtime
Memory Management
Executing Other Programs
Runtime.Version
ProcessBuilder
System
Using currentTimeMillis( ) to Time Program
Execution
Using arraycopy( )
Environment Properties
System.Logger and System.LoggerFinder
Object
Using clone( ) and the Cloneable Interface
Class
ClassLoader
Math
Trigonometric Functions
Exponential Functions
Rounding Functions
Miscellaneous Math Methods
StrictMath
Compiler
Thread, ThreadGroup, and Runnable
The Runnable Interface
Thread
ThreadGroup
ThreadLocal and InheritableThreadLocal
Package
Module
ModuleLayer
RuntimePermission
Throwable
SecurityManager
StackTraceElement
StackWalker and StackWalker.StackFrame
Enum
ClassValue
The CharSequence Interface
The Comparable Interface
The Appendable Interface
The Iterable Interface
 The Readable Interface
The AutoCloseable Interface
The Thread.UncaughtExceptionHandler Interface
The java.lang Subpackages
java.lang.annotation
java.lang.instrument
java.lang.invoke
java.lang.management
java.lang.module
java.lang.ref
java.lang.reflect
Chapter 19 java.util Part 1: The Collections Framework
Collections Overview
The Collection Interfaces
The Collection Interface
The List Interface
The Set Interface
The SortedSet Interface
The NavigableSet Interface
The Queue Interface
The Deque Interface
The Collection Classes
The ArrayList Class
The LinkedList Class
The HashSet Class
The LinkedHashSet Class
The TreeSet Class
The PriorityQueue Class
The ArrayDeque Class
 The EnumSet Class
Accessing a Collection via an Iterator
Using an Iterator
The For-Each Alternative to Iterators
Spliterators
Storing User-Defined Classes in Collections
The RandomAccess Interface
Working with Maps
The Map Interfaces
The Map Classes
Comparators
Using a Comparator
The Collection Algorithms
Arrays
The Legacy Classes and Interfaces
The Enumeration Interface
Vector
Stack
Dictionary
Hashtable
Properties
Using store( ) and load( )
Parting Thoughts on Collections
Chapter 20 java.util Part 2: More Utility Classes
StringTokenizer
BitSet
Optional, OptionalDouble, OptionalInt, and
OptionalLong
Date
Calendar
GregorianCalendar
TimeZone
SimpleTimeZone
Locale
Random
Timer and TimerTask
Currency
Formatter
The Formatter Constructors
The Formatter Methods
Formatting Basics
Formatting Strings and Characters
Formatting Numbers
Formatting Time and Date
The %n and %% Specifiers
Specifying a Minimum Field Width
Specifying Precision
Using the Format Flags
Justifying Output
The Space, +, 0, and ( Flags
The Comma Flag
The # Flag
The Uppercase Option
Using an Argument Index
Closing a Formatter
The Java printf( ) Connection
Scanner
The Scanner Constructors
 Scanning Basics
Some Scanner Examples
Setting Delimiters
Other Scanner Features
The ResourceBundle, ListResourceBundle, and
PropertyResourceBundle Classes
Miscellaneous Utility Classes and Interfaces
The java.util Subpackages
java.util.concurrent, java.util.concurrent.atomic, and
java.util.concurrent.locks
java.util.function
java.util.jar
java.util.logging
java.util.prefs
java.util.regex
java.util.spi
java.util.stream
java.util.zip
Chapter 21 Input/Output: Exploring java.io
The I/O Classes and Interfaces
File
Directories
Using FilenameFilter
The listFiles( ) Alternative
Creating Directories
The AutoCloseable, Closeable, and Flushable Interfaces
I/O Exceptions
Two Ways to Close a Stream
The Stream Classes
The Byte Streams
InputStream
OutputStream
FileInputStream
FileOutputStream
ByteArrayInputStream
ByteArrayOutputStream
Filtered Byte Streams
Buffered Byte Streams
SequenceInputStream
PrintStream
DataOutputStream and DataInputStream
RandomAccessFile
The Character Streams
Reader
Writer
FileReader
FileWriter
CharArrayReader
CharArrayWriter
BufferedReader
BufferedWriter
PushbackReader
PrintWriter
The Console Class
Serialization
Serializable
Externalizable
ObjectOutput
Other documents randomly have
different content
will leave the work to him. The Brintons were in here just before you
came, talking over the reception which we give this afternoon.”
“A reception?” said Evereld shyly.
“Yes, in the Foyer. You have just come in the nick of time. I was
wanting help. Let me see, you were introduced to the Brintons I
think at Southbourne.”
“Yes, and to Mr. Carrington, and Miss Eva Carton.”
“They have both left us. Well, you will soon get to know us all.”
Evereld hoped she might do so, but she was utterly bewildered by
the end of the reception, where she had been introduced to most of
the company and to a number of residents and people of the
neighbourhood. As to recognising Ralph’s fellow artists when she
saw them again in the evening in stage attire, it was impossible.
However they good-naturedly told her they were quite used to being
cut, and she found Ivy Grant a very pleasant companion and had a
good deal of talk with her between whiles.
Ivy had greatly improved since the days of the Scotch tour;
trouble had developed her in an extraordinary way; she had grown
more gentle and refined, and she still retained her old winsomeness
and was a general favourite. Thanks to Ralph’s straightforwardness
that morning at Forres, she had quickly awakened from her first
dream of love, and was none the worse for it. In fact, it had perhaps
done her good, she would not lightly lose her heart again, and her
standard was certain to remain high. Moreover she knew that Ralph
would always be her friend, and she felt curiously drawn to Evereld,
who was quite ready to respond to her advances.
There was something very fascinating to Evereld in the novelty
and variety of this new life; before many days had passed she began
to feel quite as if she belonged to the company. She sympathised
keenly with the desire to have good houses, listened with interest to
all the discussions and arrangements, and soon found herself on
friendly terms with almost every one.
 “There is one man, though, that I can’t make out at all,” she
remarked one evening. “He always seems to disappear in such an
odd way. I mean Mr. Rawnleigh.” Macneillie and Ralph both laughed.
“You would be very clever indeed if you contrived to know
anything about him,” said the Manager. “He chooses to keep himself
wrapped in a mystery. There’s not a creature among us who can tell
you anything about him. He’s the cleverest low comedian I have ever
had; but his habits are peculiar. To my certain knowledge his whole
personal wardrobe goes about the world tied up in a spotted
handkerchief. He has no make-up box but just carries a stick of red
rouge and powdered chalk screwed up in paper like tobacco in his
pocket. He puts it on with his finger and rubs it in with a bit of
brown paper. Nobody knows in any town where he lodges, but he is
always punctual at rehearsal, and if in an emergency he happens to
be needed, you can generally find him smoking peacefully in the
nearest public-house. He has never been heard to speak an
unnecessary word, and in ordinary life looks so like a death’s head
that he goes by the name of ‘Old Mortality.’”
Evereld laughed at this curious description.
“He is the sort of man Charles Lamb might have written an essay
about,” she said. “Now let me see if I have grasped the rest of them.
The retired Naval Captain, Mr. Tempest, is the heavy man, isn’t he?
Then there are those two young Oxonians—they are Juveniles. And
Ralph’s friend, Mr. Mowbray, the briefless barrister, what is he?”
“He’s the Responsible man,” said Macneillie.
“Mr. Brinton, I know, is the old man. And Mr. Thornton, what do
you call him?”
“Oh, he is the Utility man. Come you would stand a pretty good
examination.”
Those spring days were very happy both to Ralph and Evereld,
while Macneillie who had been anxious as to the little bride’s comfort
and well-being, began to feel entirely at rest on that score.
 It cheered him not a little to have her bright face and thoughtful
housewifely ways making a home out of each temporary resting
place. Her great charm was her ready sympathy and a certain
restfulness and quietness of temperament very soothing to highly-
strung artistic natures. When the two men returned from the
theatre, it was delightful to find her comfortably ensconced with her
needlework, ready to take keen interest in hearing about everything,
and always giving a pleasant welcome to any visitor they might bring
back with them. There was nothing fussy about Evereld: she was the
ideal wife for a man of Ralph’s eager Keltic temperament.
During July the company dispersed and Ralph and Evereld went to
stay with the Magnays in London. It was not until the re-assembling
in August that the discomforts of the new life began to become a
little more apparent. Perhaps it was the intense heat of the weather,
perhaps the contrast between the lodgings in a particularly dirty
manufacturing town and the Magnays’ ideal home with all its art
treasures, and its dainty half foreign arrangement. Certainly
Evereld’s heart sank a little when she began to unpack.
Their bedroom faced the west and the burning sunshine seemed
to steep the little room in drowsy almost tropical heat. She felt sick
and miserable. Opening the dressing-table drawer she found that
her predecessor had left behind some most uninviting hair-curlers,
and some greasepaint. Of course to throw these away and re-line
the drawer was easy enough; but by the time she had done it and
had arranged all their worldly goods and chattels she felt tired out
and was glad to lie down, though she did not dare to scrutinise the
blankets and could only try to find consolation in the remembrance
that the sheets at least were quite immaculate, and the pillow her
own. She was roused from a doze by Ralph’s entrance.
“Come and get a little air, darling,” he suggested. “This room is like
an oven. Oh! we have got such a fellow in Thornton’s place! the
most conceited puppy I ever set eyes on. What induced Macneillie to
give him a trial I can’t think, he is quite a novice and though rolling
in gold, he has never thought of offering a premium. I never saw a
fellow with so much side on. He ought to be kicked!”
“Who is he?” said Evereld laughing, as she put on her hat and
prepared to go out.
“He’s the younger son of an earl, I believe, and rejoices in the
name of Bertie Vane-Ffoulkes. He patronises the manager as if he
were doing him a great favour by joining his company, and he is
already plaguing poor Ivy with attentions that she would far rather
be without.”
They went to the public garden hoping to find a seat in the shade
where they could watch the tennis, and here they came across Ivy
and Miss Helen Orme, who usually shared lodgings. In attendance
on them walked a rather handsome young man with a pink and
white complexion and an air of complacent self-esteem. Ivy catching
sight of them hastened forward with joyful alacrity though her
cavalière servente was in the middle of one of his most telling
anecdotes.
“How delightful to meet you again!” she exclaimed taking both
Evereld’s hands in hers. “I have been longing to see you. Now, if
that obnoxious Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes will but take himself off there are
so many things I want to say to you.”
The Honorable Bertie, however, never thought himself in the way,
he begged Ralph to introduce him to Mrs. Denmead and kindly
patronised them all for the next hour, chatting in what he flattered
himself was a very pleasant and genial manner about himself, the
new costumes he had specially ordered from Abiram’s for his first
appearance on the stage, the great success of the private theatricals
at his father’s place in Southshire when he had acted with dear Lady
Dunlop Tyars, and various anecdotes of high life which he felt sure
would interest “these theatrical people.”
At last to their relief he sauntered hack to his hotel.
“I wonder whether he really acts well?” said Evereld musingly. “He
seems to have a very high opinion of his own powers. I thought all
the men’s costumes were provided by the management.”
“So they are,” said Ralph with a smile, “But nothing worn by just a
common actor would do for him, I suppose. He must have the very
best of everything specially made for him by Abiram, and strike envy
into the hearts of all the rest of us.”
“We were so comfortable and friendly before he came,” said Ivy.
“And now I am sure everything will be different. He’s an odious,
conceited, empty-headed amateur, not in the least fit to be an actor.
I wish he would go back to his private theatricals in the country with
his Duchesses, and leave us in peace.”
“Poor fellow! perhaps he really means to work hard and improve,”
said Evereld.
“You are always charitable,” said Ivy. “As for me I believe we shall
never have a moment’s peace till Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes has gone.”
Her prophesy was curiously fulfilled, for it was wonderful how
much trouble and annoyance the wealthy amateur contrived to
cause.
Macneillie bore with him with considerable patience, being
determined that in spite of his many peccadillos he should have a
fair chance. He taught him as much as it is possible to teach a very
conceited mortal, gave him many hints by which it is to be feared he
profited little, and quietly ignored his rudeness, sometimes enjoying
a good laugh over it afterwards when he described to Evereld what
had taken place.
Evereld was one of those people who are always receiving
confidences. It was partly her very quietness which made people
open their hearts to her. They knew she would never talk and betray
them, and there was something in her face which inspired those who
knew her to come and pour out all their troubles, certain of meeting
sympathy and that sort of womanly wisdom which is better than any
amount of mere cleverness.
 Even Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes himself was driven at last by the growing
consciousness of his unpopularity to tell her of his difficulties.
“I don’t know how it is, Mrs. Denmead,” he said one day, when
they chanced to be alone for a few minutes, “I am not gaining
ground here. These stage people are very hard to get on with.”
“But they are your fellow artists,” said Evereld lifting her clear eyes
to his, “why do you call them ‘these stage people’ as though they
were a different sort of race?”
“Well you know,” said the Honorable Bertie, “of course you know
it’s not quite—not exactly—the same thing. Your husband is of a
good family, I am quite aware of that, but many of the others, why,
you know, they are just nobodies.”
Evereld’s mouth twitched as she thought how Macneillie would
have taken off this characteristic little speech.
“But art knows nothing of rank,” she said gently. “Who cares about
the parentage of Raphael, or Dante, or David Garrick, or Paganini?”
The earl’s son looked somewhat blank.
“That’s all very well theoretically,” he said. “But in practice it’s
abominable. I believe there’s a conspiracy against me. They are
jealous of me and don’t mean to let me have a fair chance.”
“Oh, Mr. Macneillie is so just and fair to all, that could never be,”
said Evereld warmly.
“The manager is the worst of them,” said the Honorable Bertie,
deep gloom settling on his brow. “I hate his way at rehearsal of
making a fool of one before all the rest of the company.”
“But you can’t have a rehearsal all to yourself,” said Evereld
laughing. “You should hear what they say of other managers at
rehearsal, who swear and rave and storm at the actors.”
“I shouldn’t mind that half as much,” said Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes. “It’s
just that cool persistent patience, and that insufferable air of dignity
he puts on that I can’t stand. What right has Macneillie to authority
and dignity and all that sort of thing? Why I believe he’s only the son
of a highland crofter.”
“I don’t think you’ll find your ancestors any good in art life,” said
Evereld. “It is what you can do as an actor that matters, and as long
as you feel yourself a different sort of flesh and blood how can you
expect them to like you?”
The Honorable Bertie was not used to such straight talking but, to
do him justice, he took it in very good part, and always spoke of
Mrs. Ralph Denmead with respect, though he still cordially hated her
husband. Ralph unfortunately occupied the exact position which he
desired, he always coveted the Juvenile Lead, and Macneillie cruelly
refused to give him anything but the smallest and most insignificant
parts until he improved.
“How can I make anything out of such a character as this?” he
grumbled, “Why I have only a dozen sentences in the whole play.”
“You can make it precisely what the author intended it to be,” said
the Manager. “It is the greatest mistake in the world to judge a part
by its length. You might make much of that character if only you
would take the trouble. But it’s always the way, no heart is put into
the work unless the part is a showy one; you go through it each
night like a stick.”
There was yet another reason why Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes disliked
Ralph. In the dulness and disappointment of his theatrical tour he
solaced himself by falling in love with Ivy Grant: and Ivy would have
nothing to say to him, refused his presents, and took refuge as
much as possible with Ralph and Evereld, who quite understanding
the state of the case did all they could for her.
The more she avoided him, however, the more irrepressible he
became, until at last she quite dreaded meeting him, and had it not
been for the friendship of the Denmeads and Helen Orme she would
have fared ill.
It was naturally impossible for the Honorable Bertie to confide to
Evereld how cordially he detested her husband; he turned instead to
Myra Brinton, who being at that time in a somewhat uncomfortable
frame of mind was far from proving a wise counsellor. Though in the
main a really good woman, Myra had a somewhat curious code of
honour, and she was not without a considerable share of that worst
of failings, jealousy. If any one had told her in Scotland that she
should ever live to become jealous of little Ivy Grant, she would not
have believed it possible. But latterly Ivy had several times crossed
her path. She was making rapid strides in the profession, and was
invariably popular with her audience. This however was less trying to
Myra than the perception that a real friendship was springing up
between Ivy and young Mrs. Denmead, who, it might have been
expected would have more naturally turned to her. She did not
realise that to the young bride there seemed a vast chasm of years
between them, that a woman of seven and twenty seemed far
removed from her ways of looking at everything, and that Evereld
dreaded her criticism and turned to Ivy as the more companionable
of the two.
Deep down in her heart, moreover, poor Myra could not help
contrasting her own lot with that of Ralph Denmead’s wife. The little
bride was so unfeignedly happy and had such good cause for perfect
trust and confidence in her husband that Myra sometimes felt
bitterly towards her. Not that Tom Brinton was a bad fellow, there
was much about him that was likeable; but the lover of her dreams
had ceased to exist, she had settled down into married life that was
perhaps as happy as the average but that nevertheless left much to
be desired. Her husband would never have dreamt of ill-treating her,
indeed in his way he was fond of her still. But it has been well said
that unless we are deliberately kind to everyone, we shall often be
unconsciously cruel, and it was for lack of this kindly tenderness that
Myra’s life was becoming more and more difficult. She used to watch
Ralph’s unfailing care and thoughtful considerateness for Evereld
with an envy that ate into her very heart. She was jealous moreover
with a jealousy that only a woman can understand of the hope of
motherhood which began to dawn for Evereld. It seemed to her that
everything a woman covets was given to this young wife, who had
known so little of the hardness of life, the fierce struggle for success,
which had made her own lot so different. And as time went on a sort
of morbid sentimentality crept into her admiration for Ralph, and she
found herself beginning to hate the sight of Evereld in a way which
would have horrified her had she made time to think out the whole
state of things. It was at this time that Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes turned to
her for advice. He could not by any possibility have chosen a worse
confidante.
“Why is little Miss Grant always running after the Denmeads?” he
complained. “I can never get two words with her. If it’s not the wife
she is with, then it’s the husband. I can’t think what she sees in that
boy, but whenever he’s in the theatre she’s always talking to him.”
“Yes, she is very unguarded,” said Myra with a sigh. “Of course he
has known her since she was a child, and he was very good in
helping her on when we were in Theophilus Skoot’s company. But
she ought to be more careful, for there is no doubt that she was
very much in love with him in the old days. You would be doing a
good deed if you separated them a little.” She had not in the least
intended to say anything of this sort, the words seemed put into her
mouth, and somehow when once they were said she vehemently
assured herself that she fully believed them. Not only so but she
determined to act up to her belief.
“I never saw any one so fascinating,” said the Honorable Bertie,
who was very badly hit indeed. “She’s a regular little witch. I assure
you, Mrs. Brinton, I would marry her to-morrow if I were only lucky
enough to have the chance. But she hasn’t a word to throw at me,
and if she is not with the Denmeads, why she will stick like a leech
to Miss Orme, and how is a man to make love to a girl when that’s
the way she treats him? I wonder whether she still cares for that
fellow Denmead? If so, couldn’t you give his wife a hint, then
perhaps she would not have so much to do with her and I might
possibly stand a chance of getting a hearing.”
“Well,” said Myra, rather startled by this suggestion. “I could do
that if you like, but of course, it would lead to a quarrel between
them.”
“Oh, never mind what it leads to,” said Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes. “It will
at least give me a fair chance with her. Isn’t it hard, Mrs. Brinton,
that when a fellow doesn’t care a straw the girls are all dying for
love of him, and when at last he does care why the fates ordain that
he shall fall in love with a girl who—well—who doesn’t care a straw
for him.”
Myra could have found it in her heart to laugh at this lame ending,
and at the sudden reversal of fortune which had so greatly
depressed the earl’s son, but after all there was something genuine
about the poor fellow that touched her: for the time Mr. Vane-
Ffoulkes really was very much in love with Ivy. It was the sort of
passion that might possibly exist for about six months, it might even
prove to be a “hardy annual,” but it was certainly not a passion of
the perennial sort.
She promised that she would do her best for him.
“If he is an empty-headed fellow,” she reflected, “he is at least rich
and well-connected. It would be a remarkably good marriage for Ivy
Grant, and I will do what I can to further it.”
 CHAPTER XXXIII
“When ye sit by the fire yourselves to warm,
Take care that your tongues do your neighbours no
harm.”
Old Chimney-piece Motto.

C
hristmas had passed and they were engaged for a fortnight at
Mardentown, one of the large manufacturing places. It was on
a frosty clear morning early in the new year that Myra set out
from her rather comfortless lodgings to call on Evereld. There was
no rehearsal that day and she happened to know that both
Macneillie and Ralph were out, so that the coast would be clear for
her operations.
“I shall be doing a kindness to her as well as to Ivy and Mr. Vane-
Ffoulkes,” she reflected. “She is so very innocent, it is high time she
understood a little more of the ways of the world.”
Evereld was sitting by the fire in a cheerful-looking room into
which the wintry sun shone brightly; flowers were on the table,
Christmas cards daintily arranged were on the mantelpiece; there
was a homelike air about the place which Myra at once noted, and
she looked with a pang at the little garment at which the young wife
was working when she entered.
“My husband told me Mr. Macneillie was at the theatre so I came
in to have a chat with you,” she said kissing her affectionately. “You
are looking pale this morning, dear, this wandering life is getting too
hard for you.”
 “Oh, I am very well,” said Evereld brightly, “and as to the travelling
I shall not have much more of that for at the beginning of February I
have promised to go and stay with Mrs. Hereford in London. They all
say it is right, so I mustn’t grumble, but I do so hate leaving Ralph.”
“He can come to you for the Sundays,” said Myra. “Where has he
gone to this morning?”
“He and Mr. Mowbray have hired bicycles and have gone over to
Brookfield Castle. They will have a beautiful ride for it is so still and
the roads will be nice and dry. Ivy wanted to go too, but she couldn’t
manage to get a bicycle, they were all engaged.”
“Well it sounds unkind,” said Myra. “But I am not sorry that she
was forced to stay behind. Ivy is getting too careless of
appearances.”
“Do you really disapprove of bicycling for women?” asked Evereld.
“One has hardly had time to get used to it, but it seems such capital
exercise, and no one could look more graceful in cycling than Ivy
does.”
“Oh, I don’t mean that, dear,” said Myra colouring a little. “I really
hardly know how to explain things to you, for you seem so young
and confiding, and so ready to trust everyone. But you see Ivy
rather runs after your husband. Of course she always was a born
flirt, I don’t think she can help it. But people are beginning to notice
it and to talk, they are indeed.”
“I wonder any one can be so foolish as to think such things,” said
Evereld with a little air of matronly dignity which became her very
well. “Every one belonging to the company must surely understand
that Ivy is so much with us because she is being actually persecuted
by that provoking Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes.”
“Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes is not so bad as people make out, he may be
vain and conceited I quite admit, but he really is in love with Ivy and
she is very foolish to run away from him on every possible occasion.
It would be a capital marriage for her. Why, if the present heir were
to die, Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes comes into the title, Ivy forgets that.”
 “She positively dislikes him,” said Evereld. “You surely wouldn’t
wish her to marry such a man as that just for his position?”
“No, but I think she might be a little more civil to him and at least
give him a hearing. And quite apart from that I really think, dear,
you are ill-advised in having her so much here.”
Evereld’s clear blue eyes looked questioningly and in a puzzled
fashion at her visitor.
“But we like her and she likes us. Why shouldn’t she come?”
“Because it would be much wiser for her not to come,” said Myra.
“I know her past, and you do not. If you are wise you will not have
Ivy for your intimate friend.”
A troubled look began to steal over Evereld’s face, she was not
well, and was very ill-fitted just then to take a calm dispassionate
view of anything. Myra’s words and hints agitated her all the more
because she only half understood them. Vaguely she felt that a
shadow was creeping over her cloudless sky. She shivered a little
and drew closer to the fire.
“Please tell me just what you mean,” she said rather piteously. “I
know of nothing against Ivy, and she has been Ralph’s friend for a
long time, so naturally I like her.”
“Naturally!” exclaimed Myra, whose jealous nature found it hard to
credit such a statement. “That only shows how innocent you are,
how little you understand the world. Why to my certain knowledge
that girl is in love with your husband.”
Evereld’s eyes dilated, she stared at the speaker for a moment in
mute consternation. Then suddenly she began to laugh but not quite
naturally, her tears were at no great distance.
“How ridiculous!” she said. “I wonder you can say such a thing to
me. Ivy! who has been quite foolishly fond of me! Oh, indeed you
are mistaken!”
 “The mistake is yours!” said Myra, “Ivy is a very coaxing little thing
and would of course find it most convenient to have your friendship.
She is clever and managing, and always contrives to get her own
way, and then of course she is a born actress. I have no doubt she
was delighted to vow an eternal friendship with you. It’s just what
would suit her best.”
Evereld’s heart sank, she seemed to be suddenly plunged into an
entirely new region, where doubt and suspicion and jealousy and
evil intention made the whole atmosphere dark and oppressive. Not
since her difficulties at Glion had she felt so miserable and so utterly
perplexed.
“You see, dear,” said Myra, “I knew them both in the days of the
Scotch tour, and from the first understood how things were. I
daresay your husband hasn’t told you about it, men forget these
things, but there is no doubt whatever that Ivy was in love with him.
I saw it then clearly enough, and I see it now. Be persuaded by me,
and for your own sake and for her good don’t have her much with
you. I am older than you, and I know the harm that a fascinating
little witch like Ivy can work. Of course I say all this to you in
confidence, but I thought it was only kind to give you a hint. You
have not been to the theatre just lately.”
“No, I am rather tired of this play,” said Evereld. “I am glad we are
to have a Shaksperian week at Bath.”
“Yes, ‘legitimate’ is rather refreshing, isn’t it?” said Myra. “But the
dresses are a bother. I have to devise something new for Portia in
the casket scene, for the old one was ruined the last time I wore it.
There were six of us dressing in one room, and there was hardly
space to turn round; the train is all over grease-paint. The men are
lucky in having their costumes provided by the management. Well,
good bye, dear, take care of yourself. And be sure to let me know if
there is anything I can do for you.”
Evereld thanked her rather faintly and was not sorry to find herself
alone once more. She felt giddy as she tried to recall exactly what
Myra had said and hinted. Could it possibly be true? And if so what
was she to do? That there was a vein of silliness in Ivy she had long
ago discovered; now and then she said things which jarred a little on
her, but the more she had seen of her the more she had learnt to
like her, and her perfectly open and rational friendship for Ralph had
always seemed to her most natural. Was it true that all the time Ivy
had been acting? Myra’s arguments returned to her with a force
which she vainly tried to struggle against. Had she been able to go
out in the sunshine for a brisk walk probably she would have taken a
more quiet view of the state of affairs, but she was not well enough
for that, and the more she brooded over it all the more miserable
she became.
Just when her visions were at the darkest the bell rang and the
little servant ushered in Ivy herself.
“What luck to find you alone,” said the girl brightly, “I was afraid
Mr. Macneillie would perhaps be in. I’m in the worst of tempers, for
on this perfect day there wasn’t a lady’s bicycle to be had, and there
are those two lucky men enjoying themselves while I am left in this
smoky town.”
“I was sorry to hear you had been disappointed,” said Evereld,
going on with her work. But somehow as she said the words she
knew that she was not so sorry as she had at first been. Things had
changed since Myra’s visit. She even fancied a difference in Ivy. Was
there something more than cleverness in that winsome face? Was
there a certain craftiness in those ever-changing eyes? She began to
think there was, and being a bad hand at concealing her thoughts,
her manner became constrained and she was extremely
unresponsive to the flood of bright talk which Ivy poured out.
“Something is worrying you,” said the girl at last growing
conscious of the curious difference in her friend’s manner. “‘Don’t
worry! Try Sunlight!’ as the soap advertisement tells you. Come out
with me for a turn before dinner. Walking is the sovereign remedy
for all ills. We used to try it in Scotland when we were half starving.”
 Evereld hated herself for it, but she was so overwrought and
miserable that even the use of that word “we” grated upon her. She
declined the invitation, and her manner grew more and more cold
and repellent.
Ivy was puzzled and hurt.
“Have you been alone all the morning?” she said, wondering if
perhaps that accounted for her friend’s manner.
“No, I have had a call from Mrs. Brinton,” said Evereld colouring a
little.
“Of all perplexing people she is the most perplexing,” said Ivy.
“One day I like her, the next she is perfectly detestable. What did
she talk about?”
Evereld faltered a little.
“Oh, of various things,” she said blushing. “She is getting ready a
new dress for the Casket scene.”
“By the bye,” said Ivy springing up, “that reminds me that I must
ask her for the pattern of a sleeve I want for Jessica. I know she has
it.”
And with friendly farewells which Evereld could not find it in her
heart to respond to at all cordially she took her departure.
No sooner was she out of the house than Evereld’s conscience
began to prick her. She had felt very unkindly towards Ivy, and the
wistful look of surprise and bewilderment which she had seen on the
girl’s face as she uttered her cold farewells kept returning to her.
What if Ivy went now to see Myra and learnt that they had been
talking her over? What if after all this story of Myra’s was quite
mistaken, or possibly one of those half truths that are almost worse
and more damaging than utter falsehoods?
Shame and regret and self-reproach began to struggle with the
wretched suspicions that had been sown in her heart by Myra’s
words, and her long repressed tears broke forth at last,—she sobbed
as if her heart would break.
“How miserably I have failed,” she thought to herself. “How ready
I was to think evil, and to jump to the very worst conclusions. It
would be likely enough that she should have cared for Ralph who
was so kind to her when she was a child—I should only love her all
the more if she had loved him. Why must I fancy at the first hint
that there is sin in her friendship for him now? I won’t believe it—I
won’t—I won’t.”
She took up her work again and tried to sew, but her tears blinded
her, for she remembered how much harm might already have been
done by her angry resentment and her ready suspicions. Ever since
the hope of motherhood had come to her she had tried her very
utmost to rule her thoughts, to dwell only on what was beautiful and
of good report, to read only what was healthy and ennobling, to see
beautiful scenery whenever there was an opportunity, and in every
way to try harder than usual to live up to her ideal; she knew that in
this way the character of the next generation might be sensibly
affected.
Well, she had failed just when failure was most bitter to her, and
being now thoroughly upset she had to struggle with all sorts of
nervous terrors and anxieties and forebodings, in which her only
resource was to repeat to herself the words of the Ewart motto
“Avaunt Fear!” which had stood her in good stead during her flight
from Sir Matthew.
It was the sound of the servant’s step on the stairs and the
ominous rattle of the dinner things which finally checked her tears;
she was not going to be caught crying, and hastily beat a retreat
into her bedroom.
“If they see me like this they will imagine Ralph is unkind to me!”
she thought, shocked at her own reflection in the looking-glass. “Oh
dear, how I wish he were at home! And yet I don’t, for if he were
here just now I know I couldn’t resist telling him everything, and
that would worry him; and he shall not be worried just now when he
is so specially busy studying ‘Hamlet.’”
Macneillie returning from the theatre soon after, could not but
observe at their tête à tête dinner that his companion had been
crying, but like the sensible man he was he affected utter blindness
and did the lion’s share of the talking.
“Can you spare me a little time this afternoon,” he said as he rose
from the table. “I want to drive over to a village about three miles
from here, the day is so bright I don’t think you would take cold.”
Evereld gladly assented, and Macneillie, who as an old traveller
was an adept at making people comfortable with rugs and cushions,
tucked her comfortably into the best open carriage he had been able
to secure and was glad to see that the fresh air soon brought back
the colour to her face and the light to her eyes.
“You and I have both had a dull morning. I have been bored to
death with people incessantly wanting to speak to me, and you I
suppose have been bored by being too much alone.”
“No,” she said, “I have not been much alone; Mrs. Brinton came to
me first, and after she had gone Ivy came. They both of them vexed
me somehow, but I think it was my own fault.”
Macneillie meditated for a few minutes. He had not studied
character all these years for nothing, and Evereld’s transparent
honesty and straightforwardness made her easy reading. Myra he
had known for a long time both before her engagement and since
her marriage; she was a much more complex character, but he
understood her thoroughly and had noted, though she little guessed
it, that she was jealous both of Evereld’s happiness and of Ivy’s
success in her profession: moreover he was not without a shrewd
suspicion that she was just a little bit in love with Ralph herself.
“Life is never altogether easy when a great number of people are
going about the world together,” he said. “There are sure to be little
rubs. If you have ever seen anything of military life you will
understand that. The officers’ wives and families are pretty sure to
have their quarrels and little differences now and then, but in the
main there is a certain loyalty that binds them together. It is just the
same with us. I have known people not on speaking terms for
weeks, but they generally have a good-natured reconciliation before
the end of the tour.”
“Yes,” said Evereld, “I can quite fancy that. And I know if I hadn’t
been horrid and suspicious things would have been different this
morning. Please don’t say anything about it to Ralph, I don’t want
him to know that I had been crying.”
Macneillie could not resist teasing her a little.
“What! I thought you were a model husband and wife, and had no
secrets from each other! And here you are pledging me to silence!”
She laughed at his comical expression, and felt much better for
laughing.
“We do tell each other everything as a rule, but this could only vex
him and make things uncomfortable all round, and just now he is
studying so very hard for his first attempt at Hamlet. I really believe
he is more Hamlet than himself; he seems to think of him all day
long and even in his sleep he has taken to muttering bits of his part.
It’s quite uncanny to hear him in the dead of night!”
She was quite her cheerful self again and nothing more was said
as to what had passed that morning. Macneillie however turned
things over in his mind and that evening at the theatre he reaped
the harvest of a quiet eye, and began to understand the precise
state of affairs.
 CHAPTER XXXIV
“O for a heart from self set free
And doubt and fret and care,
Light as a bird, instinct with glee,
That fans the breezy air.

“O for a mind whose virtue moulds

All sensuous fair display,
And, like a strong commander, holds
A world of thoughts in sway!”
Professor Blackie

W
hat has happened to Evereld?” said Ivy that morning, as
Myra graciously cut out for her a second pattern of the
sleeve which she wanted. “I have been to see her and it
was like hurling words at a stone wall. I couldn’t have imagined that
she would ever be like that.”
“Oh, you have just been in there,” said Myra reflectively. “I am
sorry you went to-day.”
“What has come over her?” said Ivy. “She seemed almost to
dislike me.”
“I think she was a little upset by something she had heard,” said
Myra, handing the pattern to her visitor.
“What can she have heard that should make her different to me?”
said Ivy hotly.
 “Well, my dear,” said Myra with a swift glance at her, “you know
people are beginning to say that you run after Mr. Denmead, and I
daresay she knows that you cared for him when we were in
Scotland. Though very innocent she can hardly help putting two and
two together, and it is but natural that she should resent your
making friends with her for the sake of being able to go about
constantly with her husband. You made a mistake in professing such
a very violent friendship for her.”
“It is all a horrible lie,” cried Ivy, crimson with anger and distress.
“No wonder she hates me if she believes me to be such a hypocrite
as that! I was her friend—but I never will be again, no, nor Ralph’s
either. Oh! they will discuss it all and talk me over! and I believe it’s
your doing. You told her this lie. How I hate you! how I hate you!”
Like a little fury she flung into the fire the pattern which Myra had
just cut out for her, and was gone before her companion could get in
a single word.
Down the street she sped, looking prettier than ever because her
eyes were still bright with indignation and her cheeks aglow at the
recollection of what had passed. As ill luck would have it, just as she
reached the quiet road in which she was lodging with Helen Orme,
she came suddenly face to face with Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes.
“I had been to inquire if you were in, and to try and persuade you
to come and skate this afternoon,” he said eagerly. “The ice in the
park will bear they say. Do come.”
“But I never skated in my life,” said Ivy.
“I’ll teach you, I am sure you would learn in a very little while, and
it is just the sort of thing you would do to perfection.”
As he spoke a sudden thought darted into Ivy’s mind. Here was a
man who for some time had seriously annoyed her by persistent
attentions which she did not want. She would now change her
tactics, would carry on a desperate flirtation with him, and show
these detestable gossips that they were quite in the wrong. As for
the Denmeads she would avoid them as much as possible, and to
Myra she would not vouchsafe a single word, no—not though they
shared dressing-rooms!
All this passed through her mind while Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes was
assuring her that she would skate like one to the manner born.
“I don’t think I can go,” she said hesitatingly. “For one thing I have
no skates, and then——”
“I will manage the skates if only you will just come and try,” he
said persuasively, and after a little more discussion Ivy consented,
and the Honorable Bertie in the seventh heaven of happiness hurried
away into the High Street, there to procure the most dainty little pair
of skates that the place could supply, while Ivy, forgetting her anger
in the satisfaction of her new scheme, ran in to make a hasty meal,
and to put on the prettiest walking-dress and hat she possessed.
Late in the afternoon, Ralph and George Mowbray bicycling back
from Brookfield Castle dismounted for a few minutes to watch the
skaters in the park, and to speculate as to the chances of the ice for
the next day.
“Hullo!” exclaimed Ralph, suddenly perceiving a graceful little
figure skimming past under the guidance of a tall fair-haired man,
“Why there’s Ivy Grant pioneered by the Honorable Bertie! Wonders
will never cease.”
“So she has caved in at last,” said George Mowbray with a laugh,
“having snubbed him all these months I thought she would have
contrived to send him about his business. How cock-a-hoop he does
look!”
It was quite patent to every one after this that Ivy’s objections to
Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes were a thing of the past. She accepted every
votive offering he brought her, skated with him at every available
opportunity, and listened in the most flattering way to his extremely
vapid talk. For each inch she granted him he was ready enough to
seize an ell, and Macneillie who had no confidence at all in the
character of his wealthy amateur, soon saw that things must be
promptly checked.
 “My dear,” he said one day to Evereld when their stay at Marden-
town was drawing to a close. “I wish you would somehow contrive
to give Ivy Grant a hint; she is going on very foolishly with Mr. Vane-
Ffoulkes, and it is quite impossible that she can really have any
regard for him.”
“I can’t manage to get hold of her,” said Evereld sighing. “She
won’t come here and see me, but always makes some excuse.”
“Well, I shall get rid of Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes then,” said Macneillie.
“He has been an insufferable nuisance ever since he came. Would
you believe it—he actually had the presumption to grumble because
Ralph was to play Hamlet! I believe he seriously thinks he would do
it much better himself! The conceit of that fellow beats everything I
ever knew. You should have seen his face when he found that he
was cast for Rosencrantz! It was a picture!”
“I never can understand why you yourself don’t play Hamlet,” said
Evereld. “You would do it splendidly.”
“Ralph understands,” said Macneillie a shade crossing his face. “He
will tell you why it is.”
There was silence for some minutes. Then, as though shaking
himself free from thoughts he did not wish to dwell upon, Macneillie
began to pace the room and to consider how best to rid the
company of the undesirable presence of the Honorable Bertie.
“I have it!” he exclaimed,—suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter.
“Great Scott! That will be the very thing!” he rubbed his hands with
keen satisfaction, chuckling to himself in high glee over the thought
of the fun he anticipated. “Come to the theatre to-night, my dear,
and I will treat you to a new transformation scene which, if I’m not
mistaken, will bring down the house. But mind, not a word of it to
any one beforehand.”
It was not only his fellow actors who objected to the Honorable
Bertie, he was detested by the stage carpenters and scene shifters,
not so much because of his conceit as because he had an
objectionable habit of being always in the way. For the past week
they had been giving a play in which he took the part of a dragoon
guard and though the insignificance of the character chafed him
sorely, he found some consolation in the knowledge that in uniform
he presented a really splendid appearance.
Now it chanced that there was a property chair used in this play of
remarkably comfortable proportions, and the Honorable Bertie being
long and lazy invariably lounged at his ease in this chair between the
acts, for he had no change of dress and no opportunity of amusing
himself with Ivy just in the intervals because she happened to have
rather elaborate changes.
Macneillie, who was his own Stage Manager, had for some time
observed the cool disregard shown by the amateur of the
peremptory call of “Clear!” on the part of his Assistant stage
manager. Deaf to the order Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes invariably took his
ease in the big chair, lazily watching the busy workers with an air of
irritating superiority.
“I think I shall cure him of this little habit,” reflected Macneillie
with a smile, and seizing a moment when his victim was the only
person visible on the stage he suddenly rang up the curtain.
A roar of laughter rose from the audience, for there in full view sat
the Honorable Bertie with his legs dangling in unconventional
comfort over the arm of the chair.
He sprang to his feet in horror, dashed to the practicable door at
the back of the stage deeming it his nearest escape, forgot that he
still wore his guard’s helmet, crashed it violently against the lintel,
and by the time he had staggered back, and with lowered crest
disappeared behind the scenes, left the house in convulsions of
merriment.
The curtain descended again, and the Honorable Bertie choking
with rage contemplated his battered helmet with a fiery face, and
vowed vengeance on Macneillie, but had not the sense to join in the
laughter which even Ivy could not suppress, do what she would. The
sight of her mirth put the last touch to his wrath, and at the close of
the performance he had an angry interview with the manager who,
as he furiously declared, had made him ridiculous before the whole
house.
“The curtain was rung up too early,” admitted Macneillie. “But the
order had been given to clear the stage; you persistently disregard
that order every night and must take the consequences.”
“I will not stay another day in your d——d company,” said the
Honorable Bertie, fuming.
Macneillie bowed in acquiescence; gravely assured the Earl’s son
that a cheque for the amount of his weekly salary should be sent the
next day to his hotel, and bade him good evening. Perhaps Mr. Vane-
Ffoulkes did not quite like to be so promptly taken at his own word,
perhaps the quiet dignity of Macneillie’s manner was too much for
him; the threats and denunciations he longed to pour forth
somehow stuck in his throat, and with a muttered oath he took his
departure, leaving Macneillie well satisfied with the result of his
stratagem.
Three days after, the company moved on to Gloucester, Ivy
however had made the Business Manager put her in a different
railway carriage from the Denmeads with whom she usually
travelled, and Evereld could only contrive to exchange a few words
with her at the station.
The following week when they went to Bath matters seemed
rather more favourable. Ralph who had a great liking for the old
theatre there with its many memories, declared that it was the most
interesting theatre in England, and Evereld, partly for the sake of
seeing it, partly with the hope of patching up the quarrel, went with
him on the Monday morning to rehearsal.
The play was “The Merchant of Venice” and fortune favoured her,
for Ivy had not a great deal to do, and quickly yielded to the gentle
kindly manner of Ralph’s wife. Together they laughed over Mr. Vane-
Ffoulkes’ discomfiture, and agreed that it was a great relief to be
well quit of him; then, as the rehearsal bid fair to be a lengthy one,
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