At the finish of the sonata we all applauded Gladiola just as loudly as we could, in the hope that she would faint with surprise and stop playing, but no such luck.
She tied a couple of chords together and swung that piano like a pair of Indian clubs.
First she did "My Old Kentucky Home," with variations, until everybody who had a home began to weep for fear it might get to be like her Kentucky home.
The variations were where she made a mistake and struck the right note.
Then Gladiola moved up to the squeaky end of the piano and gave an imitation of a Swiss music box.
It sounded to me like a Swiss cheese.
Presently Gladiola ran out of raw material and subsided, while we all applauded her with our fingers crossed, and two very thoughtful ladies began to talk fast to Gladiola so as to take her mind off the piano.
This excitement was followed by another catastrophe named Minnehaha Jones, who picked up a couple of soprano songs and screeched them at us.
Minnehaha is one of those fearless singers who vocalize without a safety-valve. She always keeps her eyes closed so she can't tell just when her audience gets up and leaves the room.
The next treat was a duet on the flute and trombone between Clarence Smith and Lancelot Diffenberger, with a violin obligate on the side by Hector Tompkins.