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match away and walked on。 The ermine toque was alone； she smiled
more brightly than ever。 But even the band seemed to know what she
was feeling and played more softly； played tenderly； and the drum beat；
〃The Brute！ The Brute！〃 over and over。 What would she do？ What
was going to happen now？ But as Miss Brill wondered； the ermine toque
turned； raised her hand as though she'd seen some one else； much nicer；
just over there； and pattered away。 And the band changed again and
played more quickly； more gayly than ever； and the old couple on Miss
Brill's seat got up and marched away； and such a funny old man with long
whiskers hobbled along in time to the music and was nearly knocked over
by four girls walking abreast。
Oh； how fascinating it was！ How she enjoyed it！ How she loved
sitting here； watching it all！ It was like a play。 It was exactly like a
play。 Who could believe the sky at the back wasn't painted？ But it
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wasn't till a little brown dog trotted on solemn and then slowly trotted off；
like a little 〃theatre〃 dog； a little dog that had been drugged； that Miss Brill
discovered what it was that made it so exciting。 They were all on the
stage。 They weren't only the audience； not only looking on； they were
acting。 Even she had a part and came every Sunday。 No doubt
somebody would have noticed if she hadn't been there； she was part of the
performance after all。 How strange she'd never thought of it like that
before！ And yet it explained why she made such a point of starting from
home at just the same time each weekso as not to be late for the
performanceand it also explained why she had quite a queer； shy feeling
at telling her English pupils how she spent her Sunday afternoons。 No
wonder！ Miss Brill nearly laughed out loud。 She was on the stage。
She thought of the old invalid gentleman to whom she read the newspaper
four afternoons a week while he slept in the garden。 She had got quite
used to the frail head on the cotton pillow； the hollowed eyes； the open
mouth and the high pinched nose。 If he'd been dead she mightn't have
noticed for weeks； she wouldn't have minded。 But suddenly he knew he
was having the paper read to him by an actress！ 〃An actress！〃 The old
head lifted； two points of light quivered in the old eyes。 〃An actressare
ye？〃 And Miss Brill smoothed the newspaper as though it were the
manuscript of her part and said gently； 〃Yes； I have been an actress for a
long time。〃
The band had been having a rest。 Now they started again。 And
what they played was warm； sunny； yet there was just a faint chilla
something； what was it？not sadnessno； not sadnessa something that
made you want to sing。 The tune lifted； lifted； the light shone； and it
seemed to Miss Brill that in another moment all of them； all the whole
company； would begin singing。 The young ones； the laughing ones who
were moving together； they would begin； and the men's voices； very
resolute and brave； would join them。 And then she too； she too； and the
others on the benchesthey would come in with a kind of accompaniment…
…something low； that scarcely rose or fell； something so beautiful
moving。。。And Miss Brill's eyes filled with tears and she looked smiling at
all the other members of the company。 Yes； we understand； we
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understand； she thoughtthough what they understood she didn't know。
Just at that moment a boy and girl came and sat down where the old
couple had been。 They were beautifully dressed； they were in love。
The hero and heroine； of course； just arrived from his father's yacht。 And
still soundlessly singing； still with that trembling smile； Miss Brill
prepared to listen。
〃No； not now；〃 said the girl。 〃Not here； I can't。〃
〃But why？ Because of that stupid old thing at the end there？〃 asked
the boy。 〃Why does she come here at allwho wants her？ Why doesn't
she keep her silly old mug at home？〃
〃It's her fu…ur which is so funny；〃 giggled the girl。 〃It's exactly like a
fried whiting。〃
〃Ah； be off with you！〃 said the boy in an angry whisper。 Then：
〃Tell me； ma petite chere〃
〃No； not here；〃 said the girl。 〃Not yet。〃
。。。 On her way home she
usually bought a slice of honey…cake at the baker's。 It was her Sunday
treat。 Sometimes there was an almond in her slice； sometimes not。 It
made a great difference。 If there was an almond it was like carrying
home a tiny presenta surprisesomething that might very well not have
been there。 She hurried on the almond Sundays and struck the match for
the kettle in quite a dashing way。
But to…day she passed the baker's by； climbed the stairs； went into the
little dark roomher room like a cupboardand sat down on the red
eiderdown。 She sat there for a long time。 The box that the fur came out
of was on the bed。 She unclasped the necklet quickly； quickly； without
looking； laid it inside。 But when she put the lid on she thought she heard
something crying。
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10。 HER FIRST BALL。
Exactly when the ball began Leila would have found it hard to say。
Perhaps her first real partner was the cab。 It did not matter that she
shared the cab with the Sheridan girls and their brother。 She sat back in
her own little corner of it； and the bolster on which her hand rested felt
like the sleeve of an unknown young man's dress suit； and