Katherine had felt a little hurt by her lover’s refusal to sing but he had promised to explain his reason for doing so to Jane and herself when they were alone; and she had accepted this put-off apology in a manner so sweet and confiding that it would have satisfied even De Burg’s idea of a wife’s subordination to her husband’s feelings or caprices.
De Burg did not remain much longer; he made some remark about his duty being now at The House, as it was likely to be a very late sitting but he did not forget in taking leave to speak of Katherine’s début on the following Tuesday and to ask Lady Leyland’s permission to bring with him his cousin Agatha De Burg if she was fortunate enough to arrive in time; and this permission being readily granted he made what he told himself was a very properly timed and elegant exit. This he really accomplished for he was satisfied with his evening and somehow both his countenance and manners expressed his content.
Leyland laughed a little about De Burg’s sense of duty to The House, and made his usual quotation for the over-zealous—about new brooms sweeping clean—and Lady Jane praised his fine manner, and his correct singing, but Katherine and Harry made no remark. Leyland, however, was not altogether pleased with the self-complacent, faithful member of parliament. “Jane,” he asked, “what did the man mean by saying, ‘his political honesty must not be found wanting’?”
“Oh, I think, Frederick, that was a very honorable feeling!”
“To be sure, but members of parliament do not usually make their political honesty an excuse for cutting short a social call. I wish our good father Antony Annis had heard him. He would have given him a mouthful of Yorkshire, that he would never have been able to forget. How does the man reckon himself? I believe he thinks he is honoring us by his presence. No doubt, he thinks it only fit that you call your social year after him.”
“The De Burg Year? Eh, Fred!”
“Yes, the happy year in which you made the De Burg acquaintance. My dear, should that acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?” Then they all laughed merrily, and Leyland asked: “Why did you refuse to sing, Harry? It was so unlike you that I would not urge your compliance. I knew you must have a good reason for the refusal.”
“I had the best of reasons, sir, a solemn promise that I made my father. I will tell you all about it. We gave our factory hands a dinner and dance last Christmas and I went with father to give them a Christmas greeting. A large number were already present and were passing the time in singing and story-telling until dinner was served. One of the men asked—‘if Master Harry would give them a song,’—and I did so. I thought a comic song would be the most suitable and I sang ‘The Yorkshire Man.’ I had sung it at the Mill Owners’ quarterly dinner, amid shouts of laughter, and I was sure it was just the thing for the present occasion. Certainly, I was not disappointed by its reception. Men and women both went wild over it but I could see that my father was annoyed and displeased, and after I had finished he hardly spoke until the dinner was served. Then he only said grace over the food and wished all a good New Year, and so speedily went away. It wasn’t like father a bit, and I was troubled about it. As soon as we were outside, I said, ‘Whatever is the matter, father? Who, or what, has vexed you?’ And he said, ‘Thou, thysen, Harry, hes put me out above a bit. I thought thou would hev hed more sense than to sing that fool song among t’ weavers. It was bad enough when tha sung it at t’ Master dinner but it were a deal worse among t’ crowd we have just left.’ I said I did not understand and he answered—‘Well, then, lad, I’ll try and make thee understand. It is just this way—if ta iver means to be a man of weight in business circles, if ta iver means to be respected and looked up to, if ta iver thinks of a seat i’ parliament, or of wearing a Lord Mayor’s gold chain, then don’t thee sing a note when there’s anybody present but thy awn family. It lets a man down at once to sing outside his awn house. It does that! If ta iver means to stand a bit above the ordinary, or to rule men in any capacity, don’t sing to them, or iver try in any way to amuse them. Praise them, or scold them, advise them, or even laugh at them, but don’t thee sing to them, or make them laugh. The moment tha does that, they hev the right to laugh at thee, or mimic thee, or criticise thee. Tha then loses for a song the respect due thy family, thy money, or thy real talents. Singing men aren’t money men. Mind what I say! It is true as can be, dear lad.’
“That is the way father spoke to me and I promised him I would never sing again except for my family and nearest friends. De Burg was not my friend and I felt at once that if I sang for him I would give him opportunities to say something unpleasant about me.”
Leyland laughed very understandingly. “You have given me a powerful weapon, Harry,” he said. “How did you feel when De Burg sang?”