“I’m sure you play or sing, Mr. Carey,” she said archly.  “I can see it in your face.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Don’t you even recite?”

“I have no parlour tricks.”

The buyer in the `gentleman’s hosiery’ was a well-known reciter, and he was called upon loudly to perform by all the assistants in his department.  Needing no pressing, he gave a long poem of tragic character, in which he rolled his eyes, put his hand on his chest, and acted as though he were in great agony.  The point, that he had eaten cucumber for supper, was divulged in the last line and was greeted with laughter, a little forced because everyone knew the poem well, but loud and long.  Miss Bennett did not sing, play, or recite.

“Oh no, she ’as a little game of her own,” said Mrs. Hodges.

“Now, don’t you begin chaffing me.  The fact is I know quite a lot about palmistry and second sight.”

“Oh, do tell my ’and, Miss Bennett,” cried the girls in her department, eager to please her.

“I don’t like telling ’ands, I don’t really.  I’ve told people such terrible things and they’ve all come true, it makes one superstitious like.”

“Oh, Miss Bennett, just for once.”

A little crowd collected round her, and, amid screams of embarrassment, giggles, blushings, and cries of dismay or admiration, she talked mysteriously of fair and dark men, of money in a letter, and of journeys, till the sweat stood in heavy beads on her painted face.

“Look at me,” she said.  “I’m all of a perspiration.”

Supper was at nine.  There were cakes, buns, sandwiches, tea and coffee, all free; but if you wanted mineral water you had to pay for it.  Gallantry often led young men to offer the ladies ginger beer, but common decency made them refuse.  Miss Bennett was very fond of ginger beer, and she drank two and sometimes three bottles during the evening; but she insisted on paying for them herself.  The men liked her for that.

“She’s a rum old bird,” they said, “but mind you, she’s not a bad sort, she’s not like what some are.”

After supper progressive whist was played.  This was very noisy, and there was a great deal of laughing and shouting, as people moved from table to table.  Miss Bennett grew hotter and hotter.

“Look at me,” she said.  “I’m all of a perspiration.”

In due course one of the more dashing of the young men remarked that if they wanted to dance they’d better begin.  The girl who had played the accompaniments sat at the piano and placed a decided foot on the loud pedal.  She played a dreamy waltz, marking the time with the bass, while with the right hand she `tiddled’ in alternate octaves.  By way of a change she crossed her hands and played the air in the bass.

“She does play well, doesn’t she?” Mrs. Hodges remarked to Philip.  “And what’s more she’s never ’ad a lesson in ’er life; it’s all ear.”