“She has a very sweet voice,” said Janet. “It came out beautifully the other night.”
“Are you musical, Miss Summerhayes?”
Janet paused, believing that some one would answer for her. Then she said.
“I play a little occasionally.”
“You could rattle over a little accompaniment?” said Dolff. “Oh, it’s not difficult—I could almost do it myself, only one can’t play and sing too.”
Again Janet hesitated. She cast a glance round the silent company to know what she was expected to do. But Mrs. Harwood gave no sign, and Gussy was abstracted, listening for the step which did not come—and which was so much more important than all the brothers in the world.
“Oh, yes, I think I could rattle over a little accompaniment,” said Janet.
“Then come along,” cried Dolff, delighted. “I’ll fetch some of my songs in a moment. They are not Gussy’s sort, and she would not care to play for me, but the mother will like it, won’t you, mother? There’s a chorus with most of them,” said Dolff, pausing half-way to the door. “Perhaps Ju and you could tune up in the chorus? it’s not difficult, and it adds to the effect.”
“I think, perhaps, I might tune up in the chorus, if it’s not very difficult.”
“Oh, that’s famous,” cried Dolff, rushing out of the room.