Mr. Granger did not, much to his regret, and Mr. Harmer joined in the conversation. "Now there's a song," said he--"'Will-o-the-Wisp.' I knew a man who could bring the roof down with that song. Such lungs!"
"I don't love that loud shouting, myself," said Mrs. Taine in her fat voice. "Give me something soft and low, like 'My Pretty Jane!'"
"Ah! you should have heard Sims Reeves sing it," said Harmer.
"I have heard him," said Leonard, to whom the remark was addressed.
Harmer was annoyed. "Perhaps you have heard Grisi and Mario also?"
"No, sir. But my grandfather did."
"Probably," said Harmer, glancing at his fresh face and bald head in a near mirror. "I was a mere child myself when I heard them. Do you know much about music, Mr. Train?"
"I have heard it a good deal talked about," replied Leonard, with the air of saying something clever.
"And great rubbish they talk," put in Mrs. Taine, smoothing one hand over the other. "In my young days we talked of Wagner and Weber. Now it is all Vagner and Veber--such affectation."
"Ah! manners are not what they used to be," sighed another old lady, who prided herself on her straight back and clear eyesight.