“Worth!” said Alvanley. “Use your influence, my dear fellow! You can command where we may only supplicate!”
“Well, here is a piece of work!” exclaimed Mrs. Crewe, by no means pleased at the turn events had taken. “It is an odd thing to hear you begging the indulgence of music, Lord Alvanley. I am sure you had rather be at the card-table.”
“Oh, come, ma’am,” said Alvanley easily, “you are giving me a sad character, you know.”
“Well, I have never known you to stay away from the whist-table before,” she persisted.
“You will make me feel you are anxious to be rid of me,” he said. “If you can tell me if there is any chance of the Ten Tribes of Israel being discovered, I promise you I will go and play whist when I have heard Miss Taverner sing.”
“What in the world can you mean? You are the oddest creature, I protest!”
“Why, ma’am, only that I have exhausted the other two tribes, and called out the conscription of next year. Worth! you say nothing! Compel Miss Taverner!”
Judith, who had recovered her countenance, got up. “Indeed, it is not necessary! You make me seem very ungracious, sir, and I am afraid you will be disappointed in my performance after Miss Crewe’s excellence.”
Lord Worth rose, and walking over to the pianoforte opened it for her. As Alvanley led her up to it, he said in a low voice: “Have you music? May I fetch it for you?”
She shook her head. “I brought none. I must play from memory, and beg you all to pardon my deficiencies.”