And now here was I, left stranded once more face to face with my fuming employer; only, this time, with the memory of that child’s light-hearted mockery of stage-management between us!
CHAPTER XVIII
THE FIRST KISS
“Well! I suppose there is nothing for it but to go in here,” I said, marching, with my head well up, to the door of the den.
The Governor was only just in time to open it for me. Without a look at him I walked in, making straight for the piano-stool.
I sat down. I planted my foot firmly upon the loud pedal. My fingers clutched at the first chords of a spirited war-song as if it were a life-buoy.
“Do sing!” I heard myself fling almost imperiously at my employer.
He sang—not well.
“And please keep on singing,” I said, into the last chords of the song. “Loud ones, please.”