tried to engage him for the forthcoming Bazaar for Reformed Bandsmen.
And all this time the others mingled with the crowd—quite unobserved, for who could have eyes for anyone but Gerald? It was getting quite late, long past tea-time, and Gerald, who was getting very tired indeed, and was quite satisfied with his share of the money, was racking his brains for a way to get out of it.
"How are we to hook it?" he murmured, as Mabel made his cap disappear from his head by the simple process of taking it off and putting it in her pocket. "They'll never let us get away. I didn't think of that before."
"Let me think!" whispered Mabel; and next moment she said, close to his ear: "Divide the money, and give her something for the shawl. Put the money on it and say …" She told him what to say.
Gerald's pitch was in the shade of the tent; otherwise, of course, everyone would have seen the shadow of the invisible Mabel as she moved about making things vanish.
Gerald told the woman to divide the money, which she did honestly enough.
"Now," he said, while the impatient crowd pressed closer and closer, "I'll give you five bob for your shawl.
"Seven-and-six," said the woman mechanically.
"Righto!" said Gerald, putting his heavy share of the money in his trouser pocket.
"This shawl will now disappear," he said, picking it up. He handed it to Mabel, who put it
