"Thora will play once more before you go," she said. "I'm sorry we didn't have more doughnuts." She whispered to Thora. Some of the men had stood and reached for their hats. It was marvellous the way the two women had handled them, thought Sheridan. They were leaving meek as lambs and well satisfied. Except Hollister, who was palpably in the discard of this deal.
No matter how deep a man may get into a mucky rut, there are certain psychological reactions that may be counted upon. Some playwrights know them. To many they seem crude, the sentimental touches in a melodrama that bring down the gallery, the applause that comes from North and South when "Dixie" is played.
Thora played "Home, Sweet Home." It touched some spring, almost of reverence, revived unblighted childhoods, and it did more, it subtly invested the loghouse in the hollow of the mountain with a real sanctity. When Thora dropped her bow the men began to file towards the door in silence broken only by a "Thank you, marm an' miss, for a pleasant evenin'." Sheridan and Jackson remained a little, waiting for Hollister. He made no bow, no show of courtesy but went out into the night with a sneer.
"You were wonderful," said Sheridan to Mary Burrows.
"You two gave us a very comforting assurance," she answered. "They were not very hard to handle, after all. Except that one man, the one who just went out."
