War-time Silhouettes Part 4

"What else did he tell you?"

"He hardly said anything. In fact, he didn't tell me even that. Mr. Mayo, the manager, saw him as we were going out and I heard him call him 'Captain'!"

"Perhaps it's a mistake, anyhow," suggested Maud.

"No, it isn't. I stopped to find out--about the next concert, I mean--and Mr. Mayo told me he had greatly distinguished himself, and I'm not a bit surprised either." And Joan looked at her mother and her sister with an air of saying, "What did I tell you?"

"Well, he's sure to come and see us and tell us all about it," Mrs.

Dobson remarked complacently.

"I'm not so sure of that!" Joan spoke sharply.

"Nonsense, dear! he'll be only too pleased to, especially if we ask him--and now it's war-time I think we might. Bygones are bygones."

Joan sighed deeply. It was evident she meant her mother to notice it.

"Surely you've got over that little affair? You didn't seem to mind at the time. Did you now, dear?"

"What could I do with you all against me?" Joan's face wore an expression of aggrieved reminiscence.

"We thought it for your good, Joan. He was only a music-teacher and had no means at all."

"He was getting on splendidly, though. You forget that he had been appointed conductor of a big orchestra to tour the provinces--when the War came."

"Yes, but the War put a complete end to that and to all his prospects. A nice time you'd have had to wait," said Maud.

"It's over now, so what's the good of talking about it? I daresay he's forgotten all about me long ago." Joan sighed again and helped herself to tea.

Half an hour later Clara Whigham called up Joan on the telephone. The family was accustomed to these conversations, which were sometimes of long duration. The two girls were intimate. It was through Clara that Joan had taken piano lessons at the Royal School of Music from Jack Leclerc.

When Joan left the room Mrs. Dobson turned to her elder daughter.

"Now, Maud, you're such a sensible girl--what do you think about this young man turning up? He's sure to be after Joan again, don't you think?"

Maud considered the question with her usual conscientious earnestness, while her mother sat anxiously watching her.

"Well, now," she said at length, "supposing he does?"

"What do you mean, Maud? I don't understand."

"Well, I mean that the War has changed everything. Look at Dora Newt. She Wouldn't accept that young Mr. Firning because he was only a clerk in the bank. Now she's engaged to him, all because he's in the Army. Why, you know, mamma, Clara told you herself the other day she meant to have a War wedding."

"I must say I was shocked that so well brought up a girl should talk so lightly about marrying."

"I know, mamma, but everybody's the same now; the War makes all the difference. And I think if Joan still wants him--after all, he's a captain and--"

"I think perhaps you are right, Maud. The War does make such a difference, doesn't it? I really think I shall encourage it now that he has made a position for himself." Mrs. Dobson was interrupted by the return of Joan with another piece of news.

"Oh, mamma," she said, more breathlessly than ever, "Lady Whigham's going to give a concert for poor artists, and she wants us to give one, too!

Isn't it a heavenly idea?"

Though Mrs. Dobson knew nothing about art, and supposed that the only reason why people ever were artists was because they were too poor to be anything else, she heartily agreed to the suggestion, coming as it did through Lady Whigham, and being so exactly the form of charity that she approved.

The next morning Mrs. Dobson received a typewritten postcard--

205 CADOGAN SQUARE, S.W.

DEAR MRS. DOBSON,--

To help the artists, 2/6 teas are again being started. I am having one on Thursday the 14th. May I rely on your kind co-operation? Will you come, bring your friends, your work, have an hour's good music, tea, a chat, and feel that you are doing a great kindness to the artists?

Hoping to see you.

Yours sincerely,

CONSTANCE WHIGHAM.

Music 3.30 to 4.30.

Tea 4.30.

There was a chorus of approval round the Dobsons' breakfast-table.

Lady Whigham's concert went off with great _eclat_.

It was attended by many ladies, of whom one was a dowager countess, but there were also a bishop and a midshipman. The last had a bad cold and kept on blowing his nose during the performance of the soprano, a lady of strange appearance, said to be a Serbian refugee of n.o.ble origin.

Joan did not enjoy the concert as much as the others. She said the pianoforte playing was very indifferent--she wondered what Captain Leclerc, who sat in the front row next to Clara Whigham, thought of it.

The 28th was fixed for the concert at Mrs. Dobson's. Joan would have liked to write to Jack Leclerc and ask him to recommend the artists, but she wasn't sure how he would take it, and besides, she did not know his address. Of course she could have asked Clara, but somehow she did not like to.

As Lady Whigham had specially asked Mrs. Dobson to engage performers she was interested in, there was no difficulty and the day of the concert arrived.

Among the first arrivals were Lady and Miss Whigham, attended by Jack Leclerc.

Mrs. Dobson, wreathed in smiles, with Maud at her right hand, received the guests. Effie gave them tea and Joan showed them to their places.

There were five "artists." Three young men opened the performance with a trio for piano, violin, and 'cello. The ladies who had had tea knitted and conversed. When the performance was over they went into raptures about it. A middle-aged and melancholy-looking man with a beard followed.

He was the feature of the occasion, having been strongly recommended by Lady Whigham as a "finished and accomplished vocalist." He sang a series of very modern French songs.