“And air our own accomplishments,” added Olivia, with a smile.
“My dear Olivia——” began Miss Amelia, with her severest air; but Bertie cut in again.
“I think you’d better, Faradeane,” he said; “that is, if you can, and I think you have got the reciter’s face. Something awfully tragic, you know.”
“Such as ‘The Little Vulgar Boy,’ or ‘The Jackdaw of Rheims,’” murmured Miss Amelia, coaxingly. “Some people insist that they are too frivolous; but I maintain, and always shall maintain, that we may draw a lesson from even the most trivial stories.”
“‘The Little Vulgar Boy,’ for instance, aunt. What is the lesson?”
“Not to put any trust in strangers,” said Mr. Faradeane, quietly, and with the same flickering smile.
Olivia colored, Bertie looked embarrassed, and Miss Amelia laughed awkwardly.
“Oh, come,” said Bertie; “I’m sure you will give them something with a moral tagged to it. Better say yes, Faradeane.”
There was silence for a moment or two.
“Perhaps I’d better state that the proceeds of the entertainment will be devoted to the funds of the Muffin and Crumpet Society,” said Miss Amelia, with due solemnity.