“If it wasn’t troubling your ladyship,” said Mr. Rackham, taking off the dictionary, “and putting you to a great amount of ill-convenience, I should venture to suggest—hem!—a set of quadrilles.”
Something in the playing, once the couples had persuaded themselves to make up sets and to dance to such an august musician, that had escaped the art of the hired pianiste. An emphasis at the right place; a marvellous ability for bringing the music of each figure to an end just as the dancing ceased, so that there was no longer necessity for clapping of hands to intimate that further melody was useless, or to go on dancing with no music at all. For the next, Lady Frances played a well-marked air for a new dance that had possessed town, and in this Miss Luker gave up her partner and undertook to teach Erb, who was not fully informed on the subject. It occurred to Erb, as he tried to lift his foot at the appointed moment, and prepared immediately afterwards to swing the agreeable upper housemaid round by the waist, that although his partner had modelled her style on that of the young woman seated at the pianoforte, there existed between them a long interval. Both had the same interested way of speaking, the same attention in listening, but, with Miss Luker, there seemed to be nothing at the back of the eyes. Erb, finding himself possessed with a hope that Lady Frances might presently speak to him, tried to compensate for this weakness by telling Miss Luker, when they were lifting one foot and swinging round at the far end of the kitchen, that the title meant nothing to him, and that, for his part, he preferred to mix with everybody on a common platform, to which Miss Luker replied, “Ah! that’s because you’re a railway man.” Presently, in one of those sudden blanks of general talk that surprise the unwary, his raised voice was heard to say,—
“—Consequence is that the few revel in luxury, while the many—” He hesitated, and went on floundering through the silence. “Whilst the many ’ave not the wherewithal to buy their daily bread.”
The awkward silence continued, broken only by the music from the pianoforte and the swishing of skirts.
“Erb,” said his sister Alice, frowning over Mr. Danks’s shoulder, “remember where you are.”
“Exercise tack, my dear sir,” recommended the butler. “Exercise tack.”
“Even visitors,” remarked the housekeeper severely, so that the young woman at the pianoforte should hear, “even visitors ought to draw the line somewhere. We can’t help our opinions, but we can all stop ourselves from expressing them.”
The music stopped, and the household looked rather nervously towards the chair, with an endeavour to ascertain whether the occupant had overheard the discordant remarks. To their relief, she leaned engagingly back, and beckoned to Louisa. Louisa, her head twitching with pride and agitation, went across the floor, and stood swinging her programme round and round.
“You can play!” admitted Louisa. “Where did you pick it up?”
“I want you to bring your brother over to me,” said Lady Frances.