He sat down to a patter of applause through which Miss Cost advanced to a position near the little waterfall. Wally stood behind her. A microphone had been set up but she neglected to use it consistently. When she did speak into it, it seized upon her words and loud-speakers savagely flung them upon the heavy air. When she turned aside she changed into a voiceless puppet that opened and shut its mouth, cast up its eyes and waved its arms. The Mayor, nodding and smiling, pointed repeatedly to the microphone but Miss Cost did not observe him.

‘ – One Wonderful Afternoon – little Boy – so Sorrowful – who can tell? – Ancient Wisdom – Running Water – ’ Evidently she approached her climax but all was lost until she turned sharply and the loud-speakers bellowed ‘All Gone.’

The words reverberated about the hillside in a very desolate fashion – ‘all gone – all gone –’ Miss Cost was bowing and ineffably smiling. She added something that was completely inaudible and, with an arch look at her audience, turned to Wally and found he had vanished. He was extricated from the rear of the choir where he had retired to sit down on some seepage from the Spring.

Miss Cost led him forward. The back of his smock was slimy and green. Unfortunately she did not place him before the microphone but for the first time herself directly confronted it.

‘Now, Wally, now,’ roared the loud-speakers. ‘ “Once upon a Summer’s day.” Go on, dear.’

At first, little of Wally’s recitation was lost since he required constant prompting which Miss Cost, unwittingly, fed into the microphone. At the second stanza, however, the Mayor advanced upon her and in his turn was broadcast. ‘Shift over,’ the loud-speakers’ advised. ‘Come ‘ere, you silly lad.’ The Mayor, quick to perceive his error, backed away.

‘O dear!’ cried Miss Cost, publicly, and effected the change.

‘Got it right this time!’ said Major Barrimore loudly and gave a snort of laughter. Miss Cost evidently heard him. She threw him a furious glance.

Wally’s recitation continued.

‘Be not froightened sayed the Loidy…’

‘This is killing me,’ Jenny whispered.

‘Shut up, for pity’s sake. O, God!’ Patrick muttered. ‘What now? What’s he saying now?’

‘Shut up.’

Mrs Carstairs turned and shook her head at them. They moaned together in agony.

Wally came to an unexpected stop and walked away.

The audience, relieved, burst into sustained applause.

Miss Emily remained immovable.

The choir, accompanied by tentative grunts from the band, began to sing. Wally, recaptured, squatted beside the waterfall, looked cheerfully about him, and pushed his hands under the stream.

‘This will be the inexplicable dumb show,’ Patrick said.

‘Look! O, look!’