tes' room,
while two of the ushers hurried forward and dispersed the
memento-seekers, shepherding them back into the hall below, so that the
concert might continue.

The latter part of the programme was heard with attention, but not even
the final _duo_ for violin and piano, exquisite though it was,
succeeded in rousing the audience to a normal pitch of fervour again.
Emotion and enthusiasm were alike exhausted, and now that Diana's share
in the recital was over, the big assemblage of people listened to the
remaining numbers much as a child, tired with play, may listen to a
lullaby--placidly appreciative, but without overwhelming excitement.

"Well, what did I tell you?" demanded Jerry, triumphantly, of the
little party of friends who gathered together for tea in Diana's
sitting-room, when at length the great event of the afternoon was over.
"What did I tell you? . . . I said Diana would just romp past the
post--all the others nowhere. And behold! It came to pass."

"It's a good thing Madame Louvigny and Kirolski can't hear you,"
observed Joan sagely. "They've probably got quite nice natures, but
you'd strain the forbearance of an early Christian martyr, Jerry.
Besides, you needn't be so fulsome to Diana; it isn't good for her."

Jerry retorted with spirit, and the two drifted into a pleasant little
wrangle--the kind of sparring match by which youths and maidens
frequently endeavour to convince themselves, and the world at large, of
the purely Platonic nature of their sentiments.

Bunty, who had rejoiced in her promised seat in the front row at the
concert, was hurrying to and fro, a maid-servant in attendance,
bringing in tea, while Mrs. Lawrence, who had also been the recipient
of a complimentary ticket, looked in for a few minutes to felicitate
the heroine of the day.

She mentally patted herself on the back for the discernment she had
evinced in making certain relaxations of her stringent rules in favour
of this particular boarder. It was quite evident that before long Miss
Quentin would be distinctly a "personage," shedding a delectable
effulgence upon her immediate surroundings, and Mrs. Lawrence was
firmly decided that, if any effort of hers could compass it, those
surroundings should continue to be No. 34 Brutton Square.

Diana herself looked tired but irrepressibly happy. Now that it was
all over, and success assured, she realised how intensely she had
dreaded the ordeal of this first recital.