Mr. Ross had lingered near the house ever since he had parted from Mr.
Sherwood, so anxious was he to hear the decision of his erratic "warbler,"
and he was much relieved when he saw the sleigh drive up to the door at a
much earlier hour than he had dared to hope.
Feeling quite sure that she had reversed her hasty decision, he turned his
steps to the nearest conservatory, from which he emerged later on bearing a
box which contained what he hoped would prove his "peace-offering."
He was received by Mr. Sherwood, who had observed his approach from the
window, and his smiling face told the story before there was time to
exchange words thereon.
"Can I see her?" asked Mr. Ross, as he heard of Lancy's success.
"Well, I'm afraid not; she is engaged, I believe. I suppose you wish to
hear her rehearse?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm afraid you will have to be content with the promise that she
gave to me, that 'she would do her best.' Depend on it, she will not
disappoint any of us to-night. I'll answer for that."
"But I should like so much to see her. I would like to apologize for my
unintentional mistake. Will you take this bouquet to her with my
compliments, and ask if I may see her for a few moments?"
"She is in Mrs. Gurney's at present," said Mr. Sherwood, "but if you will
wait here I will step in and see her; but I do not think it will be wise to
insist on an interview. My daughter has a temper of her own, and that
announcement has provoked her in a way I never saw equalled, so unless she
seems perfectly willing to see you, she should be let alone, until after
the concert any way."
Mr. Sherwood was soon in the next hall inquiring for his daughter, and she
came down the stairs behind Mrs. Gurney, who also stopped to speak to her
next-door neighbor.
"Dexie," said Mr. Sherwood, "Mr. Ross sends his compliments with this
bouquet, and wishes to know if you will see him and allow him to explain,
or apologize, whichever you choose to call it," and he handed her the
fragrant flowers.
Instantly they were flung to the end of the hall, and an angry flush rose
in her cheeks as she exclaimed, hotly:
"Tell Mr. Ross that I--"
"Dexie, my dear, your promise," came the quiet words from Mrs. Gurney.
"Oh! do forgive me, this once more, Mrs. Gurney," and Dexie rushed after
the ill-used flowers; then, in a changed voice, gave the message:
"Tell Mr. Ross that I appreciate his compliments--oh! highly," and she made
a grimace, "also his flowers. They smell nice--what is left of them; but
I--oh, papa!--I can't see him. Must I go and hear him talk when the very
thought of him makes me angry? Make him go away and leave me. I have
promised to do the best I can to-night. What more can he ask?"
"You need not see him unless you choose; I will take him your excuses," and
he left the house, and returned to Mr. Ross.
"I have brought her excuses in place of herself, and you must rest content
with that, Mr. Ross. I think it will not be best to risk the chance of a
second refusal, and but for Mrs. Gurney's interference I would have had to
bring it, I fear. Let it pass till some other time and take no notice of
any coolness she may show to-night, for that public announcement has cut
her deeply."
"I am grieved to hear it, Mr. Sherwood; I will endeavor to atone for it at
some future time," and with a few parting words he left the house. Very
pretty was the picture that the young girls made, as they fluttered about
the rooms helping each other to put the finishing touches to their toilets.
Gussie's pink and white complexion looked lovelier than ever when set off
with a suit in which pale blue and white lace formed the chief parts. Dexie
seemed like a gleam of summer sunshine as she fluttered here and there; her
pretty suit had been draped with some gauzy material, that glistened and
sparkled as the light fell through its folds. The long sleeves had been
replaced by short lace ones, trimmed to match the pretty lace bertha, and
the long handsome gloves quite completed her costume.
"There, I believe we are all ready at last," said Dexie, as she picked up
her neglected flowers. "Let me fasten this cluster of rosebuds in your
belt, Cora, as the finishing touch; then I will make a _boutonniere_ for
Lancy's coat."
"Why, Dexie, you are spoiling your bouquet!" and Cora seized her hand. "I
cannot rob you of your flowers."
"But you will take them as a gift, Cora, since they are so beautiful. It
would be a pity not to use them. I do not intend to carry them, for I want
no flowers from Mr. Ross."
"But perhaps Mr. Ross will not be pleased if you give your flowers away,"
said Gussie, holding her own bouquet daintily to her nose.
"I fancy that his pleasure or displeasure will not affect me," and an angry
gleam brightened her eyes. "I merely accepted them as a peace-offering
which binds me for this night only. If the flowers help to make someone
else entrancing, they will fulfil their mission as well as if I carried
them."
"Well, if we are all ready let us go down and show ourselves to our private
families before we try to charm the eyes and ears of the public," said
Cora. "Your parents are in the parlor, Dexie; go and make your best bow,
before you put on your wraps; Gussie, do likewise," and Cora gave a
sweeping look over their figures. "Why, Dexie!" she added, "are you not
going to wear any jewelry after all?" and she pointed to the case she had
opened for Dexie's selection.
"Please, if you don't mind, I would rather not. I feel dressed enough."
"So you are, Dexie," Lancy exclaimed, coming to the door at this moment.
"Flashing jewels could not improve you, for you look stunning already. But
the horses are waiting in the cold, while you girls are admiring
yourselves."
With that they ran down the stairs, all except Dexie, who turned to the
dressing-table in search of a pin, and as they left the room Lancy came
hastily towards her.
"Oh! is it you, Lancy? I have saved some flowers for you. Shall I pin them
on?"
As she did so, Lancy slipped his arm around her, and his admiring eyes
confirmed the words that fell from his lips. "You are beautiful to-night,
Dexie. You need not fear any audience with those brilliant eyes and cherry
lips. You will win all hearts, as you have mine."
Dexie lifted her eyes in surprise, and saw a lover's face very near her
own, and before she could retreat he had pressed her to his heart, and
kissed her on both cheeks.
"For shame! look!" and she pointed to a mirror where their images were
reflected. "What would your mother say to such rudeness, sir?"
"I think she would say, 'Dexie, give Lancy one kiss for his trouble this
afternoon.' Don't you think I deserve one, my Dexie?"
But Dexie flew past him and downstairs to the parlor, where her parents and
Aunt Jennie were awaiting her.
"How do you like my looks, mamma? Am I not pretty, for once?" she asked.
"If you had behaved as well as you look I would see no cause for
complaint," said her mother coolly; "but a 'daw in borrowed feathers' is
never a pretty sight."
"But, mamma, I am going to be just as good as I look, for this evening
anyway; and I am sure, if my eyesight does not deceive me and my friends do
not flatter, that I never looked better, so I'm content," and she left the
room to put on her outside garments.
She meekly submitted to the extra wraps that Lancy insisted on placing
round her face, and she felt, as she stood beside him, that Lancy's
tenderness and love added not a little to her daily happiness, even though
she had not just the same regard for him as he professed to have for her.
"I think I'll drive down with Hugh," she said teasingly, as they came down
the steps to the street, where both sleighs were waiting.
"But I won't let you," said Lancy quickly. "You are mine for this evening.
I have earned that much, surely. I can't spare you to anyone else, my
Dexie," and he lifted her in beside himself.
They drove quickly to the hall, and were soon in the dressing-room, among
the bevy of young ladies who were to take part in the concert. Gussie's
heart was pierced with envy as she noticed how much attention was bestowed
on her sister, and she heartily wished that Dexie had kept to her refusal
of the morning.
Mr. Ross noticed that his peace-offering was not appreciated, and wisely
refrained from further remarks, giving the necessary directions in as few
words as possible.
Very gay did the Temperance Hall look that evening, with its walls draped
with bunting and its stage decorated with palms and other ornamental
plants; and it never held a larger audience than now awaited the opening
chorus, while the applause that filled the house at its close seemed to
make the rafters ring.
The first selections were admirably performed, and were fully enjoyed by
those present, but when that part of the programme was reached in which the
"American Warbler" made her first appearance, the enthusiasm reached its
height, and found vent in round after round of applause.
Lancy made his appearance first, taking his seat at the piano. This
intimated that he was not the "Warbler," and the audience looked around in
doubt, as if asking each other what next to expect.
A moment later Dexie appeared, and the sea of expectant faces made her
tremble. What if she should fail?
The appearance of this bright young girl, bowing before them, caused a
moment's hush to fall upon the people. Was she the "warbler," and what was
the character of the performance that was rated so highly? After an
exquisitely rendered interlude, Dexie's clear whistle joined the
accompaniment, and seemed to hold the listeners spell-bound. At its close a
moment of silence followed, but when Lancy rose from the instrument the
applause began, and grew louder and more deafening, and Mr. Ross hurried to
Dexie's side as she left the stage.
"You must come forward again, Miss Sherwood; that encore is not to be
resisted," as the thunderous applause grew in volume.
She took Lancy's arm at last, and stepped forward and bowed her
acknowledgement. But that was not enough; nothing but a repetition would
satisfy the enthusiastic audience, and when Mr. Ross asked her to give "The
Mocking Bird" she felt obliged to consent. Mr. Ross had rightly judged a
Halifax audience when he said it would not be content with one performance,
and not till the strains from the piano rang through the building, followed
by the appearance of Dexie, did the uproar cease.
Lancy played a long interlude to give Dexie time to compose herself, then
the first strains of the familiar song floated softly through the hall, and
very tender and touching did the words sound as they fell from Lancy's
lips, for genuine feeling was behind them. It was like a passage in a
love-story, and where is the person that does not enjoy the repetition of
some passages, even though they may, at the same time, pronounce them silly
and sentimental in the extreme?
Dexie stood near the piano. Her soft, low whistle seemed to come from a
distance, then floated nearer and nearer, gaining strength and volume as
the song progressed; and when Lancy sang "Listen to the Mocking Bird," the
joyous, bewildering notes of the birds she was imitating seemed floating
directly overhead, then receded as the next verse was sung, returning
fuller and sweeter to accompany the chorus, each verse seeming to grow more
tender and beautiful, and, when it ended, the enraptured audience showed
their appreciation by applauding with all their strength.
"No; I cannot go out again," Dexie said, as Mr. Ross urged her to appear
once more in answer to the call. "It is not fair to the rest, for there
are other things on the programme much nicer."
"Just this once more," Lancy pleaded, his eyes shining with satisfaction.
"Come on to the stage, at least, Miss Sherwood," said Mr. Ross, "or they
will have the house down over our ears. May I announce that you will
whistle again at the conclusion of the programme?" and Dexie had to
consent. Mr. Ross led her to the front of the stage, and the audience,
expecting another repetition, subsided into silence; but it was soon broken
when the announcement was made that they should have another selection
later on.
Mr. Sherwood found his way to the dressing-rooms, and received Dexie with
open arms, while numbers gathered around to congratulate her on her
success.
"I am proud of you, Dexie," her father said, as they stepped aside. "I was
down among the audience while you were whistling, and on every side I heard
words of warmest praise. Your fear of being hissed was a foolish fear,
after all. I am sure you are not sorry that you came here to-night."
"No, papa; but I do hope that Mrs. Gurney will be pleased. I whistled for
her and Lancy to-night, and if they are satisfied, that is enough. But,
listen! That is Gussie's voice; that is the duet between her and Miss
Burns. Oh, I do hope they will applaud her heartily!"
But no such feeling had dwelt in Gussie's heart when Dexie was before the
audience. If she had failed, had completely broken down or been hissed off
the stage, as Dexie herself feared, Gussie would have exulted in her
failure; yet if Gussie had faltered in the least, none would have felt it
so keenly as her twin sister Dexie.
"Did you see Hugh among the audience?" Lancy whispered from behind her
chair.
"Yes; how savage he looked! Such a scowl does not improve his handsome
face, if he only knew it. I never saw him look more fierce."
"I expect that he did not like to see you leaning on my arm before them
all," he whispered. "He is fearfully jealous, Dexie, so do not flirt with
him any more when he goes in to see Gussie," he added, as he stroked his
growing moustache.
"I am not likely to flirt with Hugh McNeil or anyone else," she said, with
some spirit; "but judging by the looks cast in this direction, I am under
suspicion already, so please leave me, Lancy."
The several selections on the programme were performed to everyone's
satisfaction, but every time that Dexie appeared, either as a singer or
accompanist, she was received with such marked favor that it was plainly to
be seen who was the favorite.
"Now, Miss Sherwood," said Mr. Ross, as the last piece ended and cries for
"the warbler" arose in the hall, "send them home so well pleased with our
entertainment that they will all be eager to attend our next."
"There is to be no repetition this time, Mr. Ross," said Dexie, decidedly.
"Let Mr. Gurney play the National Anthem directly the piece is ended."
"Very well. I will direct the members of the club to be ready to step
forward the moment your piece is finished, and we will dismiss them with
'God Save the Queen.'"
As Lancy and Dexie made their appearance the clapping of hands arose again,
and, under cover of the noise, Dexie whispered a few words to Lancy, who
immediately secured another piano stool. Then they both sat down before the
instrument and waited for the signal to begin.
A moment later and the outburst of melody that filled the hall seemed to
come from a multitude of song-birds, and the peculiar, bird-like whistle
never sounded sweeter or clearer as it rang out in answer to Lancy's more
powerful notes, their fingers meanwhile flying over the keys in delightful
harmony. Dexie forgot the hundreds of eager listeners. She seemed to have
partaken of the free, joyous nature of the birds she was so cleverly
imitating, and when the last notes had died away the applause that greeted
their ears seemed to shake the building.
It was a decided relief when the notes from the piano overruled the uproar.
A moment later and the stage was peopled by the members of the club, the
notes of the National Anthem sounded through the hall, and the audience
below rose to their feet at this the closing signal.
As the crowd passed out the door, Hugh McNeil made his way to the front;
and as he went at once to help Cora Gurney, and gave Gussie the assistance
she asked for, Dexie thought nothing of his sudden appearance amongst them
until he bent over her and hissed in her ear:
"I could have killed the both of you as you stood there making love to each
other before them all, as if you belonged to him already! You shall be
mine, not his! I swear it! so take care how you trifle with me!"
Dexie, terrified by his angry looks, hurried away, and Lancy, noticing her
white face, asked anxiously:
"What has happened to you, Dexie? You are as white as a ghost."
"Oh! that big Frenchman has frightened me. Didn't you see him talking to me
just now?"
"Yes, but I supposed he was congratulating you on your success."
"It is a pity you could not have heard his congratulations, Lancy. I fancy
you would not consider them complimentary," and they hurried homeward.
Mrs. Gurney had arranged a little supper for those of the household who
attended the concert, and if anyone noticed Hugh's absence, no one dreamed
of the cause thereof.
The skill that was required to keep out of Hugh's way during the weeks that
followed, might have raised Dexie to an eminent position if it could have
been turned into another channel. Such a sharp lookout lest Hugh might find
her alone, such a dodging through doors when his strategy had almost
succeeded in bringing her face to face--really it was a marvel how
skilfully she avoided him. Yet the fact that she did avoid him gave him a
false hope, and he thought if he could once lay his heart before her the
battle would be his.