"Yes—bedtime!" replied the organist, with a reproachful glance in the direction of his eldest sister.
"Run along, dear!" was all the comfort he received from that inflexible despot.
"All right! I must lock up, though."
Master Tony removed the last number from the mantelpiece, disintegrated his keyboard and packed it up with the other bricks, and drawing aside the window-curtain remarked solemnly into the dark recess behind it—
"That will be all to-night, organ-blower. You can go home now."
To which a husky and ventriloquial voice replied—
"Thank you kindly, Mr Handel, sir. Good-night."
"Now," concluded Mr Handel, turning to his elders with the air of a martyr addressing a group of arena lions, "I'm ready!"
"Take him up, Cilly dear," said Daphne. "I must look after dad's supper."
"Come on, Tony," said Cilly, uncoiling her long legs from under her and rising from the hearthrug.