"You bet he did!" blurted out O'Dwyer, ever ready to recite the good qualities of Danvers. Thereupon he told of the Christmas supper, Colonel Macleod's request, and the duet. "But they sang in English, so a Christian could understand—not this Dago lingo," he concluded. The Irishman's contempt for the soft Italian syllables was irresistible.
"Oh," sighed Winifred, after the laugh had died away, "I wish that I could have been at Fort Macleod that Christmas night!" she included Judge Latimer in her friendly glance.
"Mr. O'Dwyer did not tell you that he could sing!" chortled Latimer. But O'Dwyer begged to be spared, and after some good-natured raillery the judge acquiesced.
"Has that particular duet already been sung?" Winifred's eyes shone as she leaned toward her host. "If it has I shall insist upon its being repeated."
"You are so used to having people do as you ask that I believe you would," volunteered Eva.
"Of course I would. Everybody does as I wish."
"Perhaps that is because you do not ask impossible things," put in Senator Danvers. "But to relieve your anxiety, and to prevent your rising and asking for something that might be refused, I hasten to assure you that the duet has not been sung. Mr. O'Dwyer forgot to say that it was the Miserere that we tried to sing for dear old Colonel Macleod. I'm afraid we did it pretty poorly."
From this the conversation drifted to other matters.
"I don't see Mr. Burroughs, Senator Danvers, although your sister and niece are in one of the opposite boxes," said Eva, sweeping the house with her glasses. "Nor Mr. Moore, nor Senator Hall—although his wife is here," she added.
"Politics are more exciting than Italian opera, I fancy," said Winifred.