"What's he invented?"
"Brussels sprouts?" suggested Harry rather sleepily.
"But they've been invented already."
"Why shouldn't he invent them over again? Give him a chance."
Muir began to sing softly, "Young Lochinvar has come out of the West," which he appeared to think a suitable serenade, but he stopped suddenly at Gillie's entreaty.
"I don't mind anything Muir does, as long as he doesn't sing," he always explained.
"It's awful hard lines. I've got a ripping baritone voice, but I never have a chance to use it," murmured Muir.
"You shall sing to me this afternoon. I'll accompany you," whispered Daphne.
Muir had gratefully answered that it was frightfully decent of her, when the servant announced—
"Mrs. and Miss Campbell. Mr.——" He left a blank, unable to pronounce the name.