do?' asks Lord Helmdon, gazing helplessly round on the
remaining guests. 'Miss Seaton, suggest something, do!'

'I can't think of anything,' answers Lippa, longing for some distraction
to her thoughts.

'Don't you think a little music would be nice,' says Miss Appleby,
'nothing enlivens one so much on a wet day.'

'Let us have some by all means,' says Helmdon. 'I say Tommy, I'm sure
you'll honour us with a song, eh, what?'

Tommy is a very juvenile young man, with light hair parted down the
middle, a red face, and pince-nez.

'Anything you like,' he responds gaily.

'Come along then,' and away starts Chubby to the drawing-room followed
by the others. 'Now, ladies and gentlemen,' he begins having opened the
piano, 'I give you fair warning that every one of you will have to
contribute to the entertainment.'

'Catch me,' says George Seaton, and on the earliest opportunity slips
away to the smoking-room.

Miss Appleby is called upon to begin and sings a dear little song with
very few words in it.

'Tommy, it's your turn next,' says Paul, 'I'll accompany you!'

'Oh, thanks awfully,' and settling his pince-nez firmly on his very
small nose, sings with an air of sweet simplicity--'Because my mother
told me so,' which sends Chubby into shrieks of laughter.

When Philippa's turn comes, she goes to the piano knowing that Paul is
watching her, she feels he has guessed that something is up, so tries to
mislead him by singing a merry song, but he is not taken in. Helmdon
produces a banjo and sings several nigger songs lustily.

'Do you know, Chubby,' says Tommy, 'do you know that you are just made
for that kind of music, you'd do so well at the Christy Minstrels.'

'Ah, my boy,' replies he, 'I'm glad you've found an occupation for me in
which I should excel, for it is more than I have done myself; but I'm
afraid the sameness would bore me. If I do anything I shall go in for
music-hall singing, there one would have more scope for one's dramatic
talent.'

By degrees they all disperse, some to play billiards, others to write
letters, and Philippa is left alone, seated on one of the deep window
sills, a book in her hand, but her eyes are fixed on the distant
horizon, where the sun has suddenly appeared from behind the clouds,
and is shedding a yellow haze over the dripping trees.

So absorbed is she that she does not hear Paul come. He goes up to where
she is, and says, 'What has happened?'

She starts and turning ro