layton Vernon knew no more about music than she knew about
the North Pole, and cared no more. But she was Mr Millwain's cousin, and
Mr Millwain had naturally to stay at her house. And she came in her
carriage to fetch him from the band rehearsals; and, in short, anyone
might have thought from her self-satisfied demeanour (though she was a
decent sort of woman at heart) that she had at least composed "Judas
Maccabeus." It was at a band rehearsal that she had graciously commanded
Gilbert Swann to come and dine with her and Mr Millwain between the
final rehearsal and the opening concert. This invitation was, as it
were, the overflowing drop in Mrs Swann's cup. It was proof, to her,
that Mr Millwain had instantly pronounced Gilbert to be the equal of
London 'cellists, and perhaps their superior. It was proof, to her, that
Mr Millwain relied on him particularly to maintain the honour of the
band in the Festival.

Gilbert had dashed home from the final rehearsal, and his mother had
helped him with the unfamiliarities of evening dress, while he gave her
a list of all the places in the music where, as he said, the band was
"rocky," and especially the 'cellos, and a further list of all the smart
musical things that the players from London had said to him and he had
said to them. He simply knew everything from the inside. And not even
the great Merazzi, the conductor, was more familiar with the music than
he. And the ineffable Mrs Clayton Vernon had asked him to dinner with Mr
Millwain! It was indubitable to Mrs Swann that all the Festival rested
on her son's shoulders.

IV

"It's freezing, I think," said Mr Swann, when he came home at six
o'clock from his day's majestic work at Toft End. This was in the
bedroom. Mrs Swann, a comely little thing of thirty-nine, was making
herself resplendent for the inaugural solemnity of the Festival, which
began at eight. The news of the frost disturbed her.

"How annoying!" she said.

"Annoying?" he questioned blandly. "Why?"

"Now you needn't put on any of your airs, John!" she snapped. She had a
curt way with her at critical times. "You know as well as I do that I'm
thinking of Gilbert's hands.... No! you must wear your frock-coat, of
course!... All that drive from the other end of the town right to
Hanbridge in a carriage! Perhaps outside the carriage, because of the
'cello! There'll never be room for two of them and the 'cello and Mrs
Clayton Vernon in her carriage! And he can't