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You will try to rescue the M.P.? asked Mr. Cuthbert.
For the sake of his position, yes, said Lady Caroline, entering
the conservatory.
Oh! Mr. Farrant, she said, with her most gracious smile, I came
to see whether you couldn't induce your wife to sing to us. Now,
is it true that she has given up her music? I assure you she and
I have been battling the point ever since you came up. Can't you
persuade her to give us just one song? I am really in despair for
some music.
I am afraid my wife is quite out of voice, said Donovan. Are
there no other musical people?
Not one. It is really most astonishing. I was counting on Miss
FaneSmith, but she has disappointed me, and there is not another
creature who will play or sing a note. Greyshot is a terrible
unmusical place.
You do not belong to Greyshot, so perhaps you may be able to come
to the rescue, said Donovan to Erica. Scotch people can, at any
rate, always play or sing their own national airs as no one else
can.
Lady Caroline did not really in the least care whether there were
music or not, but she had expressed herself very strongly, and that
tiresome Mr. Farrant had taken her at her word, and was trying to
beat up recruits recruits that she did not want. He had now,
whether intentionally or not, put her in such a position that,
unless she were positively rude, she must ask Erica to play or
sing.
Have you brought any music, Miss Raeburn? she asked, turning to
Erica with a chilling look, as though she had just become aware of
her presence.
I have none to bring, said Erica. I do not profess to sing; I
only sing our own Scotch airs.
Exactly what I said! exclaimed Donovan. And Scotch singing of
Scotch airs is like nothing else in the world.
Whether he mesmerized them both, or whether his stronger will and
higher purpose prevailed, it would be hard to say. Certainly Erica
was quite as unwilling to sing as Lady Caroline was to favor her
with a request. Both had to yield, however, and Erica, whether she
would or not, had to serve her roomful of enemies and a great deal
of good it did her.
Out of the quiet conservatory they came into the heat and glare and
babel of voices; Lady Caroline feeling as if she had been caught in
her own trap, Erica wavering between resentful defiance and the
desire to substitute Donovan's How can I serve? for What do they
think?
She sat down to the piano, which was in a faraway corner, and soon
she had forgotten her audience altogether. Although she had had

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