Reginald then sang "Come into the garden, Maud," but this number evidently did not please them very much as they could not make out what it was all about and, preferring noise to delicacy, did not appreciate the beauty of the singer's voice. Beaumont, however, who was present, admired the item greatly, and said as much to Mrs. Larcher who, armed with a fan and a smelling bottle, sat next to him fighting with "The Affliction."
"Oh yes," sighed Mrs. Larcher when she had got "The Affliction" well under and did not feel inclined to faint, scream, or kick, or give way to any other eccentricities which "The Affliction" was fond of doing at unseasonable hours, "his voice is beautiful, no doubt, but so loud, it goes through my head and rattles my nerves. I love soft songs that soothe me--something cradle-like--a Berceuse, you understand. I'm afraid you find me rather hard to please, but it's my affliction and not myself. I assure you, Mr. Beaumont, that a loud voice often prostrates me for days and leaves me a perfect object, does it not, Eleanora Gwendoline?"
Eleanora Gwendoline, alias Pumpkin, assented with alacrity to this remark, upon which Beaumont observed that he never should have thought it to look at her, thereby inciting Mrs. Larcher to a weakly spasm of coquetry for she tapped Basil feebly with her fan and said he was a naughty man, then settled herself to listen to a glee by the choir.
The choirmaster, Simon Ruller, a long, thin individual, in a frantic state of excitement, having reduced his chorus to a state of abject nervousness started them off in the glee "Glorious Apollo," and after two or three false starts they managed to begin. Having begun, their great aim was to get over the ground as rapidly as possible, and they rushed it through at lightning speed, Mr. Ruller imploring them in fierce whispers to observe the rallentando, which advice, however, they did not take. On disappearing from the stage, chased off by the excited Ruller, they were succeeded by Miss Cassy, attired in a startling costume of blue and yellow.
This lady's contribution to the proceedings was a milk and water ballad of a semi-jocular kind, called "Almost a Case," and the way in which she leered and smirked at the audience from behind her music in order to point the meaning of the verses, was quite alarming. She paid no attention to time, and poor Cecilia was obliged to stop one minute and play furiously the next in order to follow Miss Cassy's spasmodic idea of rendering the song.
"So flippant," commented Mrs. Larcher when the fair songstress had retired, "a great want of decorum--she makes my nerves jump."
"It's the style of song, mama," said Pumpkin generously.
"Then why doesn't she choose less hoppy music?" retorted the matron fanning herself vigorously, "it makes me twitch to hear her. Ah, if she only had my affliction she wouldn't sing at all."
Beaumont privately thought this would be an excellent thing for everyone, but did not say so, knowing Mrs. Larcher to be a great friend of Miss Cassy's.
Dick Pemberton gave a sea song with great vigour, and received genuine applause, then Una and Reginald sang "Oh, that we two were Maying," which the audience did not care about. The vicar then read Poe's poem of "The Bells" in a ponderous manner, which crushed the airy lines, and after another song from Reginald, Mr. Ferdinand Priggs appeared to recite an original poem "My Ladye Fayre."