"I will try, if you like," she faltered; "but you must please go to the other end of the room and promise not to listen."
"I cannot promise that," he said, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes, "but I assure you I will not listen critically."
He moved away as he spoke, and Juliet, sitting down at the piano, struck a few notes in uncertain fashion, and then trilled forth the sweet old song, "Where the bee sucks, there lurk I."
She loved singing, and in a few moments, she had forgotten her nervousness. Her voice was untrained, but it was singularly sweet and clear. Algernon, as he stood carelessly with his hands in his pockets looking out of the window, expected only to be amused by some school-girlish warbling. He was amazed at the strength and purity of the full, clear notes.
But Algernon Chalcombe was not the only listener who was surprised and delighted by the sweet, bird-like notes. As Juliet sang the last verse, a shuffling tread was heard crossing the hall towards the half-open door, and the next moment, Mr. Chalcombe senior entered the room.
He was a short, stoutish man, with a highly coloured complexion and a round bullet head, but scantily covered with greyish hair. Late though it was in the afternoon, he wore what he was wont to describe as his "dishabilles," a gay, much-beflowered dressing-gown, considerably the worse for wear, whilst on his feet were a pair of old carpet slippers, the easiness of which was an advantage counterbalanced by the difficulty of keeping on the loose, downtrodden things.
Flossie's face flushed as her father entered, and an impatient frown appeared on that of Algernon; but Mr. Chalcombe's face beamed with good-nature. He had no misgivings as to his welcome as he joined the little party.
"Bravo! Bravo!" he cried heartily as Juliet finished her song. "I congratulate you, young lady, whoever you are, on having such a voice as that."
"Father, this is Miss Tracy," said Flossie, in a tone suggestive of remonstrance.
"To be sure. Juliet Tracy, your chum at the 'igh school. I've often 'eard of you, my dear. You two are in the same class, ar'n't you? It's a mighty fine thing, that 'igh school. You young people nowadays 'ave great advantages. My hedjucation was all crowded into three years, which left little time for putting on the polish. Ha, ha! But there, I've done very well without it." And Mr. Chalcombe struck the table sharply with his hand, by way of giving emphasis to his words.