Outside the Parish Hall a taxicab was standing, unattended, and she wondered for whom it might be waiting. She entered and stood for a time, unobserved, among the throng inside the door, for the place was crowded.
On the tiny stage was Maddelena Cacciola, a bewitching figure in a gay contadina costume, singing a merry, rollicking song to her own guitar accompaniment.
A roar of applause followed, the rough audience stamping, shrilling, whistling their delight, till the girl reappeared, beaming at them, and waved her hands to enjoin silence.
“Just a little dance now, my friends, and that must be the very last, please,” she announced; and forthwith Cacciola’s master touch brought forth real music, even from the old tinpotty piano. And Maddelena danced.
Grace watched her, fascinated. How charming, how versatile, how utterly unaffected she was; and what a consummate artiste! No wonder Austin had been attracted by her. Who could resist her? She was glad she had persuaded Winnie and him not to come on here with her to-night, but to get into “glad rags” and go to dine and dance at the Savoy. Her peacemaking effort had been entirely successful, and all was well with those two whom she loved. Winnie, the sapphire and diamond ring gleaming on her hand, had been radiant all through that tiring afternoon, had sung delightfully, had been her most lovable self; but it was just as well that she should not enter into rivalry with this irresistible Italian girl!
The end of the dance evoked another tumult of appreciation, but Maddelena had vanished, not to return, and the vicar’s jolly voice boomed out.
“We’d like to listen all night to the signorina, but we mustn’t be greedy and work her too hard. Now I vote we have some more tea and cakes—they’re all ready in the next room—and then we’ll clear for a dance.”
In the movement that followed he caught sight of Grace, and made his way towards her.
“My dear child, how long have you been here?”
“Only a few minutes, just in time to help, padre.”