“And after all,” was the reply, “the dull season is the best for charity things. People—such of them as are in town—are glad of something to do.”
For the concert was one for a benevolent object, not seemingly a very popular one, or possibly merely but little known. It had been difficult to collect the performers, more difficult to obtain the lady patronesses, most difficult of all to sell the tickets. And as a natural consequence, but few had been sold.
“The programme is a very fair one,” resumed the first speaker, glancing at it as she spoke.
“I’m glad you think so,” replied the other lady, who had had some hand in getting up the concert. “That last violin solo was a little too long.”
“Perhaps so—but still—the audience was very attentive; more than attentive indeed. Just look at those two girls—I have been watching their faces. They seem quite absorbed and delighted. Look at them now. What pretty girls they are, too!”
Mrs Balderson—for such was the name of the second speaker—smiled. Her companion’s remarks pleased her.
“They are two young friends of mine,” she replied in a lower tone. “I put them in front so as to see the performers well. They are full of interest in everything. They are staying with me for two or three weeks—their first real visit to London.”
“Indeed! how you must enjoy having them! Are they relations?” came next.
Mrs Balderson answered in a semi-whisper, till a slight rustle of expectancy warned her that the momentary interval between the long solo and a song which came next was over, and she relapsed into dutiful silence.
The sisters in front had been talking also, though in subdued tones.