“Where do you want it?” she asked, modulating softly from one key to another.

“I think D flat will be about right,” he replied.  “Kindly play a little bit of it.”

The sound of the symphony brought most of even the young people into the drawing room.  At the end of the first verse there was a subdued rustle of applause, a little more after the second, and at the end of the song so much of a burst of approval as could be produced by the audience.  Mrs. Benson looked up into John’s face and smiled.

“We appear to have scored the success of the evening,” she said with a touch of sarcasm.  Miss Clara joined them.

“What a dear old song that is!” she said.  “Did you see Aunt Charlie (Mrs. Tenaker) wiping her eyes?—­and that lovely thing of Tosti’s!  We are ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Lenox.”

John bowed his acknowledgments.

“Will you take Mrs. Benson out to supper?  There is a special table for you musical people at the east end of the veranda.”

“Is this merely a segregation or a distinction?” said John as they sat down.

“We shall have to wait developments to decide that point, I should say,” replied Mrs. Benson.  “I suppose that fifth place was put on the off chance that Mr. Benson might be of our party, but,” she said, with a short laugh, “he is probably nine fathoms deep in a flirtation with Sue Tenaker.  He shares Artemas Ward’s tastes, who said, you may remember, that he liked little girls—­big ones too.”

A maid appeared with a tray of eatables, and presently another with a tray on which were glasses and a bottle of Pommery sec. “Miss Clara’s compliments,” she said.

“What do you think now?” asked Mrs. Benson, laughing.

“Distinctly a distinction, I should say,” he replied.

“Das ist nicht so schlecht,” grunted Herr Schlitz as he put half a pate into his mouth, “bot I vould brefer beer.”

“The music has been a great treat to me,” remarked John.  “I have heard nothing of the sort for two years.”

“You have quite contributed your share of the entertainment,” said Mrs. Benson.

“You and I together,” he responded, smiling.

“You have got a be-oodifool woice,” said Herr Schlitz, speaking with a mouthful of salad, “und you zing ligh a moosician, und you bronounce your vorts very goot.”

“Thank you,” said John.

After supper there was more singing in the drawing room, but it was not of a very classical order.  Something short and taking for violin and piano was followed by an announcement from Herr Schlitz.

“I zing you a zong,” he said.  The worthy man “breferred beer,” but had, perhaps, found the wine quicker in effect, and in a tremendous bass voice he roared out, Im tiefen Keller sitz’ ich hier, auf einem Fass voll Reben, which, if not wholly understood by the audience, had some of its purport conveyed by the threefold repetition of “trinke” at the end of each verse.  Then a deputation waited upon John, to ask in behalf of the girls and boys if he knew and could sing Solomon Levi.