With smiling face but shrinking soul he walked forward, hiding his inner disgust, and sprang on the stage, making her a rather low bow.

“Come and sing a duet with me,” she said, indicating one on the piano before her that they had sung together several times.

He smiled but said nothing, and almost immediately the duet began. They sang well, and the assembly, for whatever reason, acted a little more like an audience than before.

Hester next requested Vavasor to sing a certain ballad she knew was a great favourite with him. Inwardly protesting, he obeyed, and rendered it as expressively as could be expected under the circumstances. Even so, they were all talking again before he had finished.

After a brief pause, Hester invited a gentleman prepared for the occasion to sing them something patriotic. He responded with Campbell’s magnificent song, “Ye Mariners of England!”, which was received with hearty cheers. He was followed by another who, well acquainted with the predilections of his audience, gave them another to their liking, which was not only heard in silence but followed by tremendous cheering. Thus the occasion was gradually sinking to the intellectual level of the company—with an unforeseen consequence.

Now that the tail of the music-kite had descended near enough to the earth to be a temptation to some of the walkers afoot, they must try to catch it! The moment the last song was ended, one of the uninvited friends was on his feet. Without a word of permission he called out in a loud voice, “Ladies an’ gen’lemen, Mr. William Blaney will now favour the company with a song.”

Immediately a pale pock-marked man, with high retreating forehead and long, thin hair, rose and at once proceeded to make his way through the crowd. He would sing from the stage, of course! Hester and Vavasor looked at each other, one whisper passing between them, after which they waited the result in silence. After the singing one sometimes hears in drawing-rooms, there is little occasion for surprise that some of less education should think themselves more capable of fine things than they are.

Scrambling with knee and hand upon the stage, the poor, feeble fellow stood erect and faced the audience with glowing anticipated triumph. Plunging into his song, if song it could be called, he executed it in a cracked and strained falsetto. The result, enhanced by the nature of the song, which was pathetic and dubiously moral, must have been excruciation to every good ear in the place. Long before it was over Hester had made up her mind, the moment the end came, to let loose the most thunderous music of which she was capable.

But vanity is suspicious as well as vain, and Mr. Blaney, stopping abruptly in the middle of his song’s final note, changed from the sung to the spoken word without a pause before she could strike the first chord, and screeched aloud,