“Perhaps Mr. Sisson, your flute might call out the bird of song. As thrushes call each other into challenge, you know. Don't you think that is very probable?”
“I have no idea,” said Aaron.
“But you, Marchesa. Won't you give us hope that it might be so?”
“I've no idea, either,” said she. “But I should very much like to hear Mr. Sisson's flute. It's an instrument I like extremely.”
“There now. You see you may work the miracle, Mr. Sisson. Won't you play to us?”
“I'm afraid I didn't bring my flute along,” said Aaron “I didn't want to arrive with a little bag.”
“Quite!” said Algy. “What a pity it wouldn't go in your pocket.”
“Not music and all,” said Aaron.
“Dear me! What a comble of disappointment. I never felt so strongly, Marchesa, that the old life and the old world had collapsed.—Really—I shall soon have to try to give up being cheerful at all.”
“Don't do that,” said the Marchesa. “It isn't worth the effort.”