"You never asked if you might bring him here, Mr. Thayer."
"May I take that as a hint, Miss Dane? I can play a few accompaniments after a fashion." And, without waiting for the response which was sure to come, he crossed the room to the piano.
He sang Schubert's Haiden Röslein and an American song or two. The hush over the room deepened, as the last words fell on the stillness,—
"Oh barren gain! Oh bitter loss!
I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn
To kiss the cross—"
And, in the midst of the stillness, he rose and quietly returned to his old place by the fire.
It was long before anyone spoke. Then even Miss Gannion's level voice jarred upon the silence.
"You have a wonderful gift in your keeping, Mr. Thayer," was all she said.
But Beatrix was silent, her eyes fixed on the glowing coals. At length she roused herself with an effort. Reverie was not permissible for a hostess on her reception day. She came out of hers, to find that the conversation had broken into duets. At one side of the table, Bobby and Sally were sparring vivaciously; at the other, Miss Gannion and Thayer had fallen into quiet talk about certain common friends and about the simplest method of helping Arlt to gain the professional recognition he deserved and needed.
"I'm not potent at all," Miss Gannion said regretfully. "I only know people who are, and they are not always receptive in their minds. Still, I may be able to do something, and he made a good impression at Mrs. Lloyd Avalons's recital. In the meantime, bring him to my home, some evening soon. Friday is my day; but, if you don't mind—"