No answer.
'Henry Calverly?'
A grunt.
'Thought so!' McGibbon chuckled.
Mr Boice twisted his head around, trying to see the fellow in the mirror. Heinie pulled it back.
'Got it here. Hand me my glasses, Bill, will you. Thanks.' McGibbon was sitting up, his face all lather, digging in his pocket. He produced a clipping. Read aloud with gusto:—
'“Mrs Stelton's art has deepened and broadened appreciably since she last appeared in Sunbury. Always gifted with a splendid singing organ, always charming in personality and profoundly, rhythmically musical in temperament, she now has added a superstructure of technical authority which gives to each passage, whether bravura or pianissimo, a quality and distinction.”'
McGibbon was momentarily choked by his own almost noiseless laughter. Bill pushed his head down and went swiftly to work on his right cheek. Two other customers had come in.
'Great stuff that!' observed McGibbon cautiously, under the razor. '“Profoundly, rhythmically musical in temperament “! “A superstructure of technical authority”! Great! Fine! That boy'll do something yet. Handled right. Wish he was working for me.'
Mr Boice, from whom sounds had been coming for several moments, now raised his voice. It was the first time Heinie had ever heard him raise it. Bill paused, razor in air, and glanced around. Pinkie Potter looked up from the shoes he was polishing.