"Nobody's asked me for a speech," she began and paused.
"Didn't think you had to be asked," came from the crowd in a laughing voice.
Griffin looked sadly in the direction of the voice.
"Nobody's asked me," she repeated more firmly, "and so I'm not going to make any. So there!"
Groans of relief sounded from the side of the room whence the voice had come, and there was a general giggle.
"I merely raised my voice above the general clamor," Griffin went on with an icy stare towards her hidden critic, "to suggest that we show our appreciation of the delightful entertainment Miss Kendall has so thoughtfully provided us by giving her the Night Life Song, or the Academy Howl, whichever she prefers." She bowed to Elinor with exaggerated politeness. "Which shall it be, Miss Kendall? Each is equally diverting, but the Howl has the merit of greater brevity. No extra charge for the choice, you know, so speak up and name it."
Elinor glanced about at the circle of laughing, friendly faces and her eyes shone.
"I'll choose the song," she announced, gayly. "I've heard a lot of howling already this evening."
"The song it is," cried Griffin, stepping on a chair and beginning to beat time with a big paint-brush. "Now then, all together, my children. Warble!"
Patricia, thrilled by the sweetness of the rippling, crooning song, and before the verse was half done, joined unconsciously in with the others, forgetting the need of words in the melody of the lilting song.