pon one who,
although I will not call him a stranger, is assuredly not one of our
old friends. At the same time, I admit that a little trouble has arisen
between Beatrice and myself, and we were discussing it at the moment
you arrived. I shall appeal to you now. As an unprejudiced member of the
audience to-night, Mr. Tavernake, you will give me your honest opinion?"

"Certainly," Tavernake promised, with a sinking premonition of what was
to come.

"What I complain of," the professor began, speaking with elaborate and
impressive slowness, "is that my performance is hurried over and that
too long a time is taken up by Beatrice's songs. The management remark
upon the applause which her efforts occasionally ensure, but, as I would
point out to you, sir," he continued, "a performance such as mine makes
too deep an impression for the audience to show their appreciation of it
by such vulgar methods as hand-clapping and whistling. You follow me, I
trust, Mr. Tavernake?"

"Why, yes, of course," Tavernake admitted.

"I take a sincere and earnest interest in my work," the professor
declared, "and I feel that when it has to be scamped that my daughter
may sing a music-hall ditty, the result is, to say the least of it,
undignified. For some reason or other, I have been unable to induce the
management to see entirely with me, but my point is that Beatrice
should sing one song only, and that the additional ten minutes should be
occupied by me in either a further exposition of my extraordinary powers
as a hypnotist, or in a little address to the audience upon the hidden
sciences. Now I appeal to you, Mr. Tavernake, as a young man of common
sense. What is your opinion?"

Tavernake, much too honest to be capable in a general way of duplicity,
was on the point of giving it, but he caught Beatrice's imploring gaze.
Her lips were moving. He hesitated.

"Of course," he began, slowly, "you have to try and put yourself into
the position of the major part of the audience, who are exceedingly
uneducated people. It is very hard to give an opinion, Professor. I
must say that your entertainment this evening was listened to with rapt
interest."

The professor turned solemnly towards his daughter.

"You hear that, Beatrice?" he said severely. "You hear what Mr.
Tavernake says? 'With rapt interest!'"

"At the same time," Tavernake went on, "without a doubt Miss Beatrice's
songs were also extremely popular. It is rather a pity that the
mana