“I will now favour the company with a song of my own composure!”

But before he had gotten his mouth into its singing place in his left cheek, Hester had risen—when she knew what had to be done, she never hesitated.

“I am sorry to have to interfere,” she said, “but my friends are in my house and I am accountable for their entertainment. Mr. Blaney must excuse me if I insist on keeping the management of the evening in my own hands.”

The vanity of the would-be singer was sorely hurt.

“The friends as knows me and knows what I can do will back me up. I have no right to be treated as if I didn’t know what I was about. I can warrant the song homemade and of the best quality. So here goes.”

Vavasor made a stride toward him, but a second later Mr. Raymount spoke from somewhere near the door.

“Come off the stage!” he shouted, making his way through the company as fast as he could.

Vavasor drew back and stood like a sentinel on guard. Hester resumed her seat at the piano. Blaney, fancying that he would be allowed to finish if he began before Mr. Raymount reached him, got his mouth into position and began to howl. But his host jumped on the stage from behind, reached him at his third note, took him by the back of the neck, and proceeded to walk him through the company and out of the room like a naughty boy. Propelling him thus out of the house, Mr. Raymount reentered the concert room and was greeted by a great clapping of hands as if he had performed a deed of valour. But in spite of the man’s impudence, seeing his puny form in the mighty clutch of her father had gone right to Hester’s heart.

The moment silence was restored, up rose a burly honest-looking bricklayer.

“I beg your pardon, miss, but will you allow me to make one remark?”

“Certainly, Mr. Jones,” answered Hester.

“It seems to me, miss,” said Jones, “as it’s only fair on my part as brought Blaney here, to make my apologies and to say for him that I know he never would have done what he done if he hadn’t had a drop as we come along to this ‘ere tea party. That was the cause, miss, an’ I hope as it’ll be taken into account as poor enough reason of his conduct. It takes very little, I’m sorry to say, miss, to upset his behaviour—not more’n a pint. But there’s not a morsel of harm in him, poor fellow. I know him well, bein’ my wife’s brother—leastways half brother. When he’s got a drop in his nob, it’s always for singing, he is—an’ that’s the worst of him. Thank you kindly, miss.”