"We want a drummer," declared Bobby.
"The gong. Where's the gong? Miss Hammond, may we get the gong? We can't live without a drum."
"Of course you can have it. Mr. Collins, go and fetch it from the hall."
Bobby went, leaving the door ajar. They watched for their drummer, Colonel Grainger and Mr. Hammond in high good humour, humming the refrain,
"Fare thee well for I must leave thee,"
From the hall came a sharp exclamation and the sound of a scuffle.
Then Bobby questioned sharply and a voice, Connie's voice unmistakably, was raised in protest.
They all turned towards the door.
Then Bobby returned. In one hand he carried the large brass gong and its padded stick; the other hand was firmly grasped round Connie's wrist.
"See what I've found," he cried triumphantly. "Not only a drum, but a drummer! Allow me, ladies and gentlemen, to introduce to you Miss Constance Hammond, youngest daughter of our respected host and hostess, just this moment returned on unexpected leave from her strenuous duties upon a farm in the North Riding, where she has been carrying on the splendid work of feeding our nation in its hour of peril."