had seen the person, who now had gained the platform, come into the room. My first impulse had been to exclaim that here was Mr. Groome at last. A moment's reflection, however, showed me that the individual had come through the door which led from the artists' room, and that—well, that the situation might be more complicated than I, in my first impulse, had imagined. But I was certainly unprepared for Mrs. Groome's behaviour. The new-comer, whoever he was, as I said, had gained the platform. His appearance there, considering the place, was greeted with quite a tumult of applause. Acknowledging this with the most perfunctory of nods, without loss of time, with the most modest and most unpretentious air imaginable, he seated himself at the keyboard of the instrument. The applause died away. In silence the audience waited for the performance to commence. All but Mrs. Groome, who not only continued standing up, but who continued speaking too.
"Papa! Papa!" she said, in a voice which was not only audible to every person present, but which created an unmistakable sensation. I verily believe that the individual on the platform was the only individual in the place who did not turn and stare at her. She addressed herself to her daughters: "My dears, what can be the matter with papa? He must be mad! Papa!"
Perceiving that a buzz of curiosity was beginning to travel round the room, and that people might be jumping to conclusions, which Mrs. Groome might not impossibly consider derogatory to her character, I endeavoured to explain. I spoke in a tone of
