The ladies would not tell him, until his complacent cynicism at the notion of his having missed a sermon, spurred them to reveal that the organ had been handled in a masterly manner; and that the voluntary played at the close of the service was most exquisite.
“Even papa was in raptures.”
“Very good indeed,” said Mr. Pole. “I'm no judge; but you might listen to that sort of playing after dinner.”
Mr. Pericles seemed to think that was scarcely a critical period, but he merely grimaced, and inquired: “Did you see ze player?”
“Oh, no: they are hidden,” Arabella explained to him, “behind a curtain.”
“But, what!” shouted the impetuous Greek: “have you no curiosity? A woman! And zen, you saw not her?”
“No,” remarked Cornelia, in the same aggravating sing-song voice of utter indifference: “we don't know whether it was not a man. Our usual organist is a man, I believe.”
The eyes of the Greek whitened savagely, and he relapsed into frigid politeness.
Wilfrid was not present to point their apprehensions. He had loitered behind; but when he joined them in the house subsequently, he was cheerful, and had a look of triumph about him which made his sisters say, “So, you have been with the Copleys:” and he allowed them to suppose it, if they pleased; the Copleys being young ladies of position in the neighbourhood, of much higher standing than the Tinleys, who, though very wealthy, could not have given their brother such an air, the sisters imagined.
At lunch, Wilfrid remarked carelessly: “By the way, I met that little girl we saw last night.”