Conolly bowed.

“If you would rather not,” said Miss McQuinch, shamed into remorse, “I will try the accompaniment.  But I am sure to play it all wrong.”

“I think Miss McQuinch had better play,” said Douglas.

Conolly looked at Marian; received a reassuring glance; and went to the platform with her without further ado.  She was not a sympathetic accompanist; but, not knowing this, she was not at all put out by it.  She felt too that she was, as became a lady, giving the workman a lesson in courtesy which might stand him in stead when he next accompanied “Rose, softly blooming.”  She was a little taken aback on finding that he not only had a rich baritone voice, but was, as far as she could judge, an accomplished singer.

“Really,” she said as they left the platform, “you sing most beautifully.”

“One would hardly have expected it,” he said, with a smile.

Marian, annoyed at having this side of her compliment exposed, did not return the smile, and went to her chair in the green-room without taking any further notice of him.

“I congratulate you,” said Mrs. Leith Fairfax to Conolly, looking at him, like all the rest except Douglas, with a marked access of interest.  “Ah! what wonderful depth there is in Gounod’s music!”

He assented politely with a movement of his head.

“I know nothing at all about music,” said Mrs. Fairfax.

“Very few people do.”

“I mean technically, of course,” she said, not quite pleased.

“Of course.”

A tremendous burst of applause here followed the conclusion of the first verse of “Uncle Ned.”

“Do come and listen, Nelly,” said Marian, returning to the door.  Mrs. Fairfax and Conolly presently went to the door too.

“Would you not like to help in the chorus, Nelly?” said Marian in a low voice, as the audience began to join uproariously in the refrain.

“Not particularly,” said Miss McQuinch.

“Sholto,” said Marian, “come and share our vulgar joy.  We want you to join in the chorus.”

“Thank you,” said Douglas, “I fear I am too indifferent a vocalist to do justice to the occasion.”

“Sing with Mr. Conolly and you cannot go wrong,” said Miss McQuinch.

“Hush,” said Marian, interposing quickly lest Douglas should retort.  “There is the chorus.  Shall we really join?”

Conolly struck up the refrain without further hesitation.  Marian sang with him.  Mrs. Fairfax and the clergyman looked furtively at one another, but forbore to swell the chorus.  Miss McQuinch sang a few words in a piercing contralto voice, and then stopped with a gesture of impatience, feeling that she was out of tune.  Marian, with only Conolly to keep her in countenance, felt relieved when Marmaduke, thrice encored, entered the room in triumph.  Whilst he was being congratulated, Douglas turned to Miss McQuinch, who was pretending to ignore Marmaduke’s success.