THE BRIGAND ORCHESTRA 57 



Paper caps of varied shapes and colours, dazzling 

 tinsel jewels and paper fans emerge from the 

 Christmas crackers, and as we see one another 

 decorated by them, it would seem that the clock 

 had been pushed back some twenty years, and 

 even more. Are we not all of us again little short- 

 frocked, muslin-dressed girls, with plaited hair 

 and smiling children's faces ? Certainly in spirit 

 we resemble the smallest of the party, the little 

 dark-haired girl of fourteen, who still goes by the 

 happy nickname of " Boy." 



But the fun is now only beginning, for several 

 active members of the " Arrangement Committee " 

 stealthily glide away to light up and make ready 

 the ballroom, whilst the majority are left to laugh 

 and talk awhile longer, before they slip into goloshes 

 and coats, with gay-coloured scarves wreathed 

 about their heads in which to brave the elements of 

 December in their flight to the lecture-room. 



Three tall, sombre, cloaked figures with slouch 

 hats enter the orchard gate with us. Are they 

 brigands, or maybe German spies ? A word of 

 explanation is sufficient to allay anxiety, and 

 when their cloaks and hats are flung aside, we 

 realise that even our musicians have donned pale 

 blue uniforms in honour of our favourite colour. 



Is it not recorded that amongst certain tribes 

 magic dances are performed to secure a supply of 

 food ? In ancient Mexico the women used to toss 

 their hair as they danced, so that the maize might 

 have long, waving tassels, and to this day in 

 Europe peasant maidens dance and leap high to 

 make the flax grow. It seems to-night that piano, 



