"Why not seven-four?"—innocently. "You have five-four. Come along. One, two, three, four, five, six, sev'n; one, two, three, four, five—"
And the next moment the two were improvising a farcical duet that in its way was a masterpiece of ingenious musicianship. Thence they passed on to more serious music until finally Sandy was persuaded to produce his violin—he had two, one of which, as he was wont to remark, "lodged" at Mallow. With the help of Penelope and Ralph Fenton, the afternoon was whiled away until a low-toned gong, reverberating through the house was a warning that it was time to dress for dinner, brought the impromptu concert to an abrupt end.
CHAPTER IX
A SKIRMISH WITH DEATH
It was a soft, misty day when Trenby called to drive Nan over to the Trevithick Kennels—one of those veiled mornings which break about noon into a glory of blue sky and golden sunlight.
As she stepped into the waiting car, Roger stopped her abruptly.
"Go back and put on something thicker," he commanded. "It'll be chilly driving in this mist."
"But it's going to be hot later on," protested Nan.
"Yes, only it happens to be now that we're driving—and it will be cool again, in the evening when I bring you back."
Nan laughed.