The Setons Part 5

"Was that why you said you liked my song instead of my singing?"

"Yes," he said; and they both laughed.

They were deep in the subject of Scots ballads when Mr. Inverarity came along with dates on a majolica dish in one hand, his other hand behind his back.

"A little historical matter," he said, offering the dates. "No? Then,"

he produced a silver dish with the air of a conjurer, "a chocolate?"

Elizabeth chose deliberately.

"I'm looking for the biggest," she said. "You see I'm greedy."

"Not at all," said Mr. Inverarity. "Sweets to the sweet;" and he pa.s.sed on his jokesome way.

"Sweets to the sweet," repeated Elizabeth. "Isn't it funny? Words that were dropped with violets over the drowned Ophelia now furnish witticisms for suburban young men."

"Miss Seton," said Mrs. Thomson, bustling up, "you're here. We're going back to the drawing-room now to have a little more music." She dropped her voice to a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "Papa's asked Mr. Taylor to sing.

Jessie'll be awful ill-pleased, but he's an old friend."

"Does he want to sing?" asked Elizabeth.

"Dyin' to," said Mrs. Thomson.

Back to the drawing-room flocked the company, and Mr. Taylor, to use his own words, "took the floor." Jessie was standing beside the Simpsons and saw him do it.

"What a funny little man that is!" said Miss Simpson languidly. "What's he going to do now?"

"The dear knows," said Jessie bitterly.

They were not left long in doubt.

Mr. Taylor struck an att.i.tude.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I have been asked to favour you with a song, but with your kind permission I'll give you first a readin'."

He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a newspaper cutting. "It's a little bit I read in the papers," he explained, "very comical."

The "little bit" from the newspapers was in what is known in certain circles as "guid auld Doric," and it seemed to be about a feather-bed and a lodger, but so amused was Mr. Taylor at the joke he had last made, and so convulsed was he at one he saw coming, that very little was heard except his sounds of mirth.

Laughter is infectious, especially after supper, and the whole room rocked with Mr. Taylor. Only Jessie sat glum, and the Simpsons smiled but wanly. Greatly encouraged by the success of his reading, Mr. Taylor proceeded with his song, a rollicking ditty ent.i.tled "Miss Hooligan's Christmas Cake." It was his one song, his only song. It told, at length, the ingredients of the cake and its effect on Tim Mooney, who

"lay down on the sofa And said that he wished he was dead."

The last two lines of the chorus ran:

"It would kill a man twice to eat half a slice Of Miss Hooligan's Christmas Cake."

Uproarious applause greeted Mr. Taylor's efforts, and he was so elated that it was with difficulty Mr. Thomson restrained him from singing it all over again.

"You've done fine, man," he whispered. "Mind you're the superintendent of the Sabbath school."

Mr. Taylor's face sobered.

"Thomson, ye don't think it's unbecoming of me to sing 'Miss Hooligan'?

I've often sang it and no harm thought, but I wouldn't for the world bring discredit on ma office. I did think of gettin' up 'Bonnie Mary o'

Argyle.' It would mebbe have been more wise-like."

"No, no, Taylor; I was only joking. 'Miss Hooligan's' fine. I like it better every time I hear it. There's no ill in it. I'm sorry I spoke."

Meantime Jessie was trying to explain away Mr. Taylor to the Simpsons, who continued to look disgusted. Elizabeth Seton, standing near, came to her aid.

"Isn't Mr. Taylor delicious?" she said. "Quite as good as Harry Lauder, and you know"--she turned to Miss Muriel Simpson--"what colossal sums people in London pay Harry Lauder to sing at their parties."

Miss Muriel knew little of London and nothing of London parties, but she liked Elizabeth's a.s.suming she did, so she replied with unction, "That is so."

"Well," said Miss Gertrude, "I never can see why people rave about Harry Lauder. I see nothing funny in vulgarity myself, but look at the crowds!"

"Perhaps," said Elizabeth, "the crowd has a vulgar mind. I wouldn't wonder;" and she turned away, to find Stewart Stevenson at her elbow.

"I say, Miss Seton," he said, "I wonder if you would care to see that old ballad-book I was telling you about?"

"I would, very much," said Elizabeth heartily. "Bring it, won't you, some afternoon? I am in most afternoons about half-past four."

"Thanks very much--I would like to.... Well, good night."

It seemed to strike everyone at the same moment that it was time to depart. There was a general exodus, and a filing upstairs by the ladies to the best bedroom for wraps, and to the parlour on the part of the men, for overcoats and goloshes, or snow-boots as the case might be.

Elizabeth stood in the lobby waiting for her cab, and watched the scene.

As Miss Waterston tripped downstairs in a blue cashmere cloak with a rabbit fur collar Mr. Inverarity emerged from the parlour, with his music sticking out of his coat-pocket.

Together they said good night to Mr. and Mrs. Thomson and told Jessie how much they had enjoyed the party. "We've just had a lovely evening, Jessie," said Miss Waterston.

"Awfully jolly, Miss Thomson," said Mr. Inverarity.

"Not at all," was Jessie's reply; and the couple departed together, having discovered that they both lived "West."

The Simpsons, clad in the smartest of evening cloaks, were addressing a few parting remarks to Jessie, when Mr. and Mrs. Taylor took, so to speak, the middle of the stage. Mrs. Taylor had turned up her olive-green silk skirt and pinned it in a bunch round her waist. Over this she wore a black circular waterproof from which emerged a pair of remarkably thin legs ending in snow-boots. An aged black bonnet--"my prayer-meeting bonnet" she would have described it--crowned her head.

They advanced arm in arm till they stood right in front of their host and hostess, then Mr. Taylor made a speech.

"A remarkably successful evenin', Mrs. Thomson, as I'm sure everybody'll admit. You've entertained us well; you've fed us sumptuous; you've----"

"Now, Mr. Taylor," Mrs. Thomson interrupted, "you'll fair affront us.

It's you we've to thank for coming, and singing, and I'm sure I hope you'll be none the worse of all--there, there, are you really going?

Well, good night. I'm sure it's real nice to see you and Mrs. Taylor always so affectionate--isn't it, Papa?"

"That's so," agreed Mr. Thomson.