"No, by Jove--that's the only thing it doesn't contain, unless you call halting verse and interminable poems Priggian," said the young man gaily. "Well, go on with the list, Cecilia."
"Dr. Larcher is going to give us a reading," said Cecilia, who had been listening to the analysis with a quiet smile, "and Mr. Pemberton sings a sea song; I think that's all, except Miss Busky and Simon Ruller."
"Last, but not least," remarked Una lightly. "The programme is excellent--let us hope the performers will be as good. It's next week, isn't it?"
"No; on Thursday fortnight," answered Cecilia. "Oh, I forgot, the choir sings a glee."
"And you play a piece, of course," said Reginald gravely. "This is capital. Well, now we've finished business, let us go in for pleasure. I want you to play me the 'Cujus animam.'"
"What for?" asked Una.
"I'm anxious to try my voice," said Blake to her in a low tone, while Miss Mosser turned to the organ. "You know why--you must give me your candid opinion about it--so go down to the end of the church and tell me what you think."
"I'll be a very severe critic," observed Una, as she went away.
"The more so the better," called out Blake; "don't spare me--imagine you're the Musical Times."
Una laughed, and ensconced herself in a comfortable pew at the far end of the church just near the white marble font.