Arthur, my dear boy, I depend on _you_ for that, and you must come
down here and do it. No singing, then. But Mrs. Phillips was not quite
satisfied. Wouldn't I recite something? Heavens! Well, of course I know
lots of poems--_c'est mon metier_. I repeated one. Then other
volunteers were called upon--it was entertaining with a vengeance! The
young ladies had to chip in also--though they, of course, were prepared to.
And one of the young business-men did some clever juggling; and Mrs. Ryder
sang a little French ballade; and Mr. Randolph--poor man!--was suddenly
routed out of his placidity, and responded as well as he could with one or
two little stories, not very pointed and not very well told. But I judge he
makes no great claim to being a _raconteur_--he was merely paying an
unexpected tax as gracefully as he could.
"Well, as I was saying, the man in the wheeled chair came in. Of course he
hadn't been down to dinner--I think I saw a tray for him carried along the
hall. As he was working his way through the door, I suppose I must have
been talking and laughing at my loudest; and that big, bare room, done in
hard wood, made me seem noisier still.
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