But although this was the case Lilac felt quite as interested and pleased as though she were to be the chief performer at the concert. When the programme was discussed at the farm, which was very often, she listened eagerly, and was delighted to find that Mrs Leigh wished her to sing in two glees which she had learnt at school. The concert would be unusually good this year, everyone said, and each performer felt as anxious about his or her part as if its success depended on that alone. Mr Buckle, next to his own recitation, relied a good deal on the introduction of a friend of his from Lenham, who had promised to perform on the banjo and sing a comic song—if possible.
“If you can get Busby,” he repeated over and over again, “it’ll be the making of the thing, and so I told Mrs Leigh.”
“What did she say?” enquired Bella.
“Well, she wanted to know what he would sing. But, as I said to her, you can’t treat Busby as you would the people about here. He moves in higher circles and he wouldn’t stand it. You can’t tie him down to a particular song, he must sing what he feels inclined to. After all, I don’t suppose he’ll come. He’s so sought after.”
“Well, it is awkward,” said Bella, “not being certain—because of the programme.”
“Oh, they must just put down, Song, Mr Busby, and leave a blank. It’s often done.”
Each time Mr Buckle dropped in at the farm just now he brought fresh news relating to Mr Busby.
He could, or could not come to the concert, so that an exciting state of uncertainty was kept up. As the day grew nearer the news changed. Busby would certainly come, but he had a dreadful cold so that it was hardly probable he would be able to sing. Lilac heard it all with the greatest sympathy. The house seemed full of the concert from morning till night. As she went about her work the strains of the “Edinburgh Quadrilles” sounded perpetually from the piano in the parlour. Sometimes it was Agnetta alone, slowly pounding away at the bass, and often coming down with great force and determination on the wrong chords; sometimes Bella and Agnetta at the same time, the treble dashing along brilliantly, and the bass lumbering heavily in the distance but contriving to catch it up at the end by missing a few bars; sometimes Mr Buckle arriving with his drum and triangle there was a grand performance of all three, when Lilac and Molly, taking furtive peeps at them through the half-open door, were struck with the sincerest admiration and awe. It was indeed wonderful as well as deafening to hear the noise that could be got out of those three instruments; they seemed to be engaged in a sort of battle in which first one was triumphant and then another.
“It’s a little loud for this room,” observed Mr Buckle complacently, “but it’ll sound very well at the concert.” Bella felt sure that it would be far the best thing in the programme, not only because the execution was spirited and brilliant but on account of the stylish appearance of the performers. Mr Buckle had been persuaded to wear his volunteer uniform on the occasion, in which, with his drum slung from his shoulders and the triangle fastened to a chair, so that he could kick it with one foot, he made a very imposing effect.
Agnetta and Bella had coaxed their mother into giving them new dresses of a bright blue colour called “electric”, which, being made up by themselves in the last fashion, were calculated to attract all eyes.