The nondescript band upon the stage broke out into a tune which bore a distant resemblance to the “Star Spangled Banner.” The alleged music wound up at last, and Clif rose to his feet.
Those in the audience saw him pass one hand across his forehead in a half-dazed manner. He swayed slightly and was seen to grasp the arm of his chair.
“Captain and officers, and cadets of the Monongahela,” he began, speaking indistinctly, “it gives me—me the greatest pleasure to in—introduce to your favorable consid—consideration this talented ag—ag——”
He turned and glanced at Joy, and that youth, ordinarily solemn and mournful in appearance, broke into a hysterical giggle.
Two members of the audience—Ferguson and Bryce—exchanged glances, and covered their mouths with their hands.
“Glory! it’s working,” whispered the former.
“Just watch the old man,” was Bryce’s reply. “He smells a rat already. This is great.”
Down in front the commander of the Monongahela was eying the stage with a puzzled expression on his face. One or two of the officers were smiling.
Suddenly Nanny began to chuckle and hold his sides as if highly amused. He attempted to leave his chair, but toppled over against Trolley.