Without waiting for any reply, he began to play, with one finger, and the others thankfully took up the well-known air.
After that there was no more constraint, and Captain Patch made Mrs. Fazackerly take his place as accompanist and stood behind the rest of the group, and eventually went away and returned carrying a laden coffee-tray.
Presently there was a great deal of cigarette smoke in the room, and a great deal of talk and laughter.
Mrs. Harter looked quite different.
“Thank goodness, it’s going to be a success after all,” Mrs. Fazackerly thought. She had an absurd feeling that the rescuing of her party from failure was a good omen for the future.
It was past twelve o’clock when the Ambreys went home in Christopher’s small car, and Captain Patch escorted Mrs. Harter to the narrow house in Queen Street where she was living in rooms.
“Good-by. Let’s do it again soon,” cried Sallie. “Why don’t we all meet this day week at our house and sing some more?”
“Let’s,” said Christopher.
“Mrs. Harter, can you?”
“Thanks very much.”