Tramping upstairs, still again, Gadsby and party found a class so varying from all downstairs as to bring forth murmurs of joy, for this was known as “Music Floor”; upon which was taught all forms of that most charming of all arts—from solo work to community singing, from solitary violin pupil to a full brass band. On our party’s arrival, Lucy, Doris and Virginia, hurrying from classrooms, sang, in trio, that soft, slow Italian song, “O Solo Mio;” and, as Gadsby proudly said, “Not for many a day had such music rung out in Branton Hills;” for most girls, if in training with a practical vocalist, can sing; and most charmingly, too.
In a far room was a big string outfit of banjos, mandolins and guitars, happily strumming out a smart, throbbing Spanish fandango, until His Honor could not avoid a swinging of body and tapping of foot; causing Lady Gadsby to laugh, saying:—
“Rhythm has a mighty grip on Zulus, I am told.”
To which our swaying Mayor said:—
“Anyway, a Zulu has a lot of fun out of it. If singing, playing and dancing could only crowd out sitting around and moping, folks would find
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