Mrs. Brennan sat in silence by the side of her son, in the pride of his presence, glad that he and she were here. She was as fine as any of them, for she kept fine raiment for such occasions. In the first place as an advertisement for her craft of dressmaker, and, secondly, to afford a cloak for her past, even as those among whom she sat cloaked their pasts in heavy garments of pride. Her attention was concentrated not so much upon the performance she was about to witness as upon the audience assembled to witness it. To her the audience was the concert, and, although she was speaking no word, she was as nervously observant as the old postmistress. She was concerned by the task before her, for would she not be in honor bound to "go over" all that passed to any one who might happen into the sewing-room next day, and lay everything bare with a searching and deadly analysis for her son John? Thus was she not distracted by the chattering and giggling, but perfectly at ease while her mind worked nimbly within the limits of its purpose.
The mind of John Brennan was not enjoying the same contentment. He was a little excited by the presence of Rebecca Kerr on a seat adjacent. She had a place on the program, and was awaiting her time to appear. His eye was dwelling upon her hair, which lifted gracefully from her white neck in a smooth wave of gold. It was the fairest thing in this clouded place of human fumes, and the dear softness from which it sprang such a recess of beauty.
The concert had at last begun. Harry Holton, the comic, was holding the stage and the audience was in convulsions. Harry Holton was a distant disciple of Harry Lauder. Having heard the funny Scotchman upon the gramophone he rather fancied that it was he who should have been Harry Lauder. In course of time, he had grown to think that it was Lauder and not himself who was doing the impersonation. His effort to be broadly Scotch, while the marks of the son of Erin were so strong upon him, was where, all unseen, his power to move towards laughter really lay. Yet the audience rocked its sides in crude mirth at this crude exhibition, and each man asked his neighbor was it not the funniest damned thing? The seven sleek publicans of Garradrimna threatened to explode.... John Brennan saw big beads of perspiration rise upon the comedian's brow and gleam in the sickly glare of the lamplight. Beyond the excitement, from behind the scenes, came a new sound—the popping of a cork—and through a chink in the back cloth he saw Ulick Shannon take his drink from the bottle.... Had Rebecca Kerr seen that as well as he or——. But his speculation was cut short by the exit of the comedian after many encores, amidst tumultuous applause.
Next came Agnes McKeon, a near relation of Monica's and the schoolmistress of Ballinamult. Her big spectacles gave her the look of her profession, and although she sang well in a pleasing contralto, she appeared stiff and unalluring in her white dress, which was starched to a too strong resplendence. John heard two old maids with scraggy necks remarking, not upon the power of Miss McKeon's voice, but upon the extraordinary whiteness of her dress, and saying it was grand surely, but they anxiously wondered were all her garments as clean for they were ready to credit her with extreme slovenliness of habit.
The play was the notable event of the evening. Although the work of a famous Abbey playwright, it had been evidently re-written for Harry Holton, who was the principal character. It was purely a Harry Holton show. Dramatic point and sequence were sacrificed to give scope to his renowned abilities. The other players would seem to have merged themselves to give him prominence. But the ladies had not merged their natural vanity. One in particular, who was supposed to represent an old woman of Ireland, wore an attractive dress which was in the prevailing fashion. It was the illiterate pronunciation of even the simplest words which chiefly amused John Brennan. Herein might be detected the touch of Ulick Shannon, who, in coaching the production, had evidently added this means of diversion for his own amusement. John fancied that his friend must be enjoying it hugely in there behind the scenes.
When the play had been concluded by Harry Holton giving a few steps of a dance, John Brennan saw Rebecca moving towards the stage. He observed the light grace with which she went to the ordeal. Here was no self-consciousness, but instead that easy quietness which is a part of dignity.... It was Ulick Shannon who held aside the curtain allowing her to pass in upon the stage.
"Well now, isn't that one the brazen thing?"
This was the expression of opinion which came clearly from out the whispering and giggling. It was an unpardonable offense to appear in public like this without a certain obvious fluttering and fear which it was one of Garradrimna's most notable powers to create. It was a great flout. Even his mother was moved to nudge him, so unusual was the method of this strange girl, appearing in public before the place into which she had come to earn a living.
But she was singing. Rebecca Kerr was singing, and to John Brennan this was all he wished to know. He trembled as he listened and grew weary with delight. He became nervous, as before some unaccountable apprehension, and turned to his mother. She was looking quizzically at the girl on the stage. But the stage to him was now a sort of haze through which there moved ever little dancing specks.
The concert was over and his mind had not yet returned to realization. Rebecca had not come from behind the scenes. He moved with his mother out into the night, and, as they went, glanced around the corner of the hall. He saw Rebecca Kerr and Ulick Shannon standing within the shadow of the surrounding wood. He spoke no word to his mother as they went down the road towards the house in the valley.