ian sang the song. Meanwhile, Miss
McQuinch, listening jealously in the green-room, hated herself for her
inferior skill.

"Cool, and reserved, is the modern Benjamin Franklin," observed
Marmaduke to her.

"Better a reserved man who can do something than a sulky one who can do
nothing," she said, glancing at the tall man, with whom the clergyman
was nervously striving to converse.

"Exquisite melody, is it not, Mr. Douglas?" said Mrs. Fairfax, coming to
the clergyman's rescue.

"I do not care for music," said Douglas. "I lack the maudlin disposition
in which the taste usually thrives."

Miss McQuinch gave an expressive snap, but said nothing; and the
conversation dropped until Miss Lind had sung her song, and received a
round of respectful but not enthusiastic applause.

"Thank you, Mr. Conolly," she said, as she left the platform. "I am
afraid that Spohr's music is too good for the people here. Dont you
think so?"

"Not a bit of it," replied Conolly. "There is nothing so very particular
in Spohr. But he requires very good singing--better than he is worth."

Miss Lind colored, and returned in silence to her seat beside Miss
McQuinch, feeling that she had exposed herself to a remark that no
gentleman would have made.

"Now then, Nelly," said Marmaduke: "the parson is going to call time.
Keep up your courage. Come, get up, get up."

"Do not be so boisterous, Duke," said Marian. "It is bad enough to have
to face an audience without being ridiculed beforehand."

"Marian," said Marmaduke, "if you think Nelly will hammer a love of
music into the British workman, you err. Lots of them get their living
by hammering, and they will most likely resent feminine competition.
Bang! There she goes. Pity the sorrows of a poor old piano, and let us
hope its trembling limbs wont come through the floor."

"Really, Marmaduke," said Marian, impatiently, "you are excessively
foolish. You are like a boy fresh from school."

Marmaduke, taken aback by her sharp tone, gave a long whispered whistle,
and pretended to hide under the table. He had a certain gift of drollery
which made it difficult not to laugh even at his most foolish antics,
and Marian was giving way in spite of herself when she found Douglas
bending over her and saying, in a low voice:

"You are tired of this place. The room is very draughty: I fear it will
give you cold. Let me drive you home now. An apology can be made for
whatever else you are supposed to do f