On Wednesday evenings it was generally understood that the boarders, such at any rate as had no other engagements, would remain after supper and gather in the little reception-room, till the dining-room was cleared, spending the evening socially.
On such occasions Mrs. Wyman would generally volunteer a song, accompanying herself if there was no one else to play. She had a thin, strident voice, such as one would not willingly hear a second time, but out of courtesy we listened, and applauded. The widow had one who fully appreciated her vocal efforts, and this was herself. She always looked pleased and complacent when her work was done.
It was on the first Wednesday after the Count's arrival that she induced him to remain.
"Don't you sing, Count?" she asked.
"Very little, madam," he said.
"But you are an Italian, and all Italians are musical."
He uttered a faint disclaimer, but she insisted.
"Do me a favor—a great favor," she said, persuasively, "and sing some sweet Italian air, such as you must know."
"No, I don't sing Italian airs," he said.
"What then?"