One evening, when Mr. Plaisted was still in Halifax, there was a small
party held at Mrs. Gurney's, to which the Sherwoods were invited. Although
the party was only for "grown-ups," as Elsie Gurney said, invitations were
given to Gussie and Dexie, as company for the young members of the party.
Among those present was Major Gurney, and several of his brother officers,
whose gaily-attired figures added much to the beauty of the rooms.
During the evening music was introduced, and it need hardly be said that
most of the songs sung were thoroughly English, and of course much
applauded; but Dexie, in her loyalty to the land she called _home_, though
living out of its borders, could scarcely conceal her annoyance, and
turning to a table near, she picked up a book of views in order to hide her
vexation. Presently she became aware that the book before her was composed
of views that were unmistakably English; and no sooner was their
nationality noted than she dropped the book as if it had burnt her fingers.
"The idea of that little spot on the earth lording it over all creation!"
she said to herself, and her lip curled in scorn.
Just then the young man at the piano struck up the notes of "Rule
Britannia," which was caught up at once by all the red-coated gentlemen
present, as if the very words were a sweet morsel under their tongues. It
ended at last with a crash, and Dexie gave a sigh of relief when she saw
the piano stool vacant.
But Mr. Gurney was making his way towards her, and, bending over her, said
in a low voice:
"Will you favor the company with some music, Miss Dexie? I have often
listened to some very enchanting strains from your fingers."
"Well, I think I can play something that will be quite as enchanting as
that we have just listened to," Dexie replied. "I don't believe that piece
was ever meant to be sung inside four walls, and those officers shout as if
they intended to raise the roof. I am afraid my playing will seem very tame
after all that bluster," she laughingly added.
"No fear of that," said Mr. Gurney, smiling. "Try and see if you cannot
beat them at their own game."
Dexie looked up quickly, and caught his meaning, and as she crossed the
room her thoughts were flying through her brain, trying to bring to mind
some song that would answer those "red-coated braggarts." A smile came to
her lips, as memory served her. Yes, she could sing something that was
quite as musical as "Rule Britannia," anyway, and echo the praise of her
own land as well. So when she passed her father she whispered:
"Give me the help of your best bass in the chorus;" and bending over
Gussie, who was listening to the remarks of a many-striped officer, who was
standing near her chair, she said in a low tone: "Give me your help this
once, Gussie, and let your alto be heard clear to the citadel."
Seating herself at the piano, she struck a few chords, and then her rich,
ringing voice, with every word clear and distinct, sounded through the
room:
"Of all the mighty nations in the east or in the west,
Our glorious Yankee nation is the brightest and the best;
We have room for all creation, and our banner is unfurled
With a cordial invitation to the people of the world.
So, come along, come along; make no delay;
Come from every nation; come from every way.
The land it is broad enough; you need not be alarmed,
For Uncle Sam has land enough to give you all a farm."
An amused look passed over the faces of those present as the sentiments of
the singer reached their ears, and Plaisted said, half aloud:
"Good for you, Miss Dexie; I back you there!" and when the chorus was
reached, his fine tenor was equal to any that had been heard during the
evening, his "Come along" ringing out like a bold challenge.
"Hurrah for the Stars and Stripes!" cried Lieutenant Layton, as he joined
in the applause that arose as soon as the song had ended. "Your nationality
is quite apparent, Miss Sherwood. That's right; don't let your own broad
country be sung down."
Dexie found herself immediately surrounded, and was overwhelmed with
entreaties to sing again, for the "back slap" had been as diverting as it
was unexpected, and she found it impossible to leave the piano without
singing again. But she thought that one song in that strain was enough,
though Mr. Gurney came over to her side, saying:
"Give us another like the last, Miss Dexie. It is good for these red-coated
fellows to remember that they have not conquered all the people on the face
of the earth."
"I am afraid it will offend someone," said Dexie, softly. "I couldn't
resist the temptation of letting them know that _I_ don't think England is
supreme. I am a loyal American, even if I do reside in Halifax."
"Oh! there is no danger of offending," Mr. Gurney replied. "The lion has
roared quite enough for one evening, so let the starry flag play awhile in
the breeze."
But Dexie did not like to flaunt the flag too near the lion's face, and in
his own den, as it were; so remembering some of the beautiful, pathetic
songs, that had been inspired by the war, she thought they would be quite
as much enjoyed.
Lancy Gurney was seldom far from the piano, and as Dexie finished her song
she motioned him to her side. A few whispered words passed between them,
then Lancy sat down beside her, when there rang out a symphony that
delighted every ear.
In a few minutes, Dexie took advantage of the movement she had brought
about on purpose to relieve herself, and rose from the piano, leaving Lancy
seated at the instrument.
This musical treat brought Dexie into social prominence, as there were
several members of the "Song and Glee Club" present, and she was much
surprised to receive invitations for herself and sister to join the club.
This club contained some of the best singers in the city, but had no
members so young as those now invited to join them. The invitation was
never regretted, however, for they soon acknowledged that the "Sherwood
twins" were quite an acquisition.
The pleasant evening was over at last, and the twins had received
compliments enough to turn older heads than theirs; but Dexie did not dwell
on the flattering remarks as Gussie did. Her singing and playing came as
natural to her as it did to talk, and she was not puffed up by the praise
bestowed on her for it. But Gussie was always vain of her good looks, and
she magnified the remarks that her pretty face had elicited, and when they
were about to retire Gussie had quite the air of a society belle as she
said:
"I have made quite an impression on Lieutenant Morton. I feel quite sure he
is almost in love with me already." But, receiving no answer to this
remark, she added:
"I hope you are not jealous, Dexie, because I received so many compliments
from those fine-looking officers?"
"Pooh! you silly thing! Jealous! Well, that's rich, I must say," replied
Dexie, in a tone of scorn. "You seem to think it is a fine thing to be
complimented by soldiers, but not so I. Why, didn't Mrs. Gurney tell us
one time that it was not considered respectable to be seen talking to
soldiers on the street, and I can't see how it makes so much difference if
you talk to them behind closed doors."
"Oh, but there was not one soldier invited to Mrs. Gurney's party; they
were all officers, every one of them," was Gussie's reply.
"Pshaw! what difference do a few ornaments on a man's coat make to the man
inside of it, I'd like to know? I expect that half of them, at least, were
common soldiers once themselves, and were bossed around like the very
meanest of them. I declare, I'd rather be a black on auntie's plantation
than be under some of those bawling officers we met to-night."
But Gussie did not care to discuss the matter further, as it required some
time to think the matter out seriously, if she would discover why an
officer should be less open to objection than a common soldier, for it was
true enough that many who wore the stripes had stepped up from the ranks;
yet how few of the better class care to make friends with the common
soldier, be he ever so respectable as a private individual. Was it likely
that a cloak of uncommon respectability was put on with the officer's
uniform? Hardly; else some of them lost the cloak very shortly after it was
put on.