Part 22 (1/2)

The evening came. Everyone had practised their parts and brought them to a high pitch of perfection; and except Mr Busby, whose appearance was still uncertain, everyone was prepared to fill their places in the programme.

”You won't find two better-looking girls than that,” said Mrs Greenways to her husband, looking proudly at her two daughters. ”That blue does set 'em off, to be sure!”

”La!” said Bella with a giggle, ”I feel that nervous I know I shall break down. I'm all of a twitter.”

”Well, it's no matter how you _play_ as long as you look well,” said Mrs Greenways; ”with Charlie making all that noise on the drum, you only hear the piano now and again. But where's Lilac!” she added.

”It's more than time we started.”

Lilac had been ready long ago, and waiting for her cousins, but just before they came downstairs she had caught sight of Peter looking into the room from the garden, and making mysterious signs to her to come out. When she appeared he held towards her a bunch of small red and white chrysanthemums. ”Here's a posy for you,” he said. ”Stick it in your front. They're a bit frost-bitten, but they're better than nothing.”

Lilac took the flowers joyfully; after all she was not to be quite unadorned at the concert.

”You ain't got a new frock,” he continued, looking at her seriously when she had fastened them in her dress. ”You look nice, though.”

”Ain't you coming?” asked Lilac. She felt that she should miss Peter's friendly face when she sang, and that she should like him to hear her.

”Presently,” he said. ”Got summat to see to first.”

When the party reached the school-house it was already late. The Greenways were always late on such occasions. The room was full, and Mr Martin, the curate, who had the arrangement of it all, was bustling about with a programme in his hand, finding seats for the audience, greeting acquaintances, and rus.h.i.+ng into the inner room at intervals to see if the performers had arrived.

”All here?” he said. ”Then we'd better begin. Drum and fife band!”

The band, grinning with embarra.s.sment and pleasure, stumbled up the rickety steps on to the platform. The sounds of their instruments and then the clapping and stamping of the audience were plainly heard in the green room, which had only a curtain across the doorway.

”Lor'!” said Bella, pulling it a little on one side and peeping through at the audience, ”there _is_ a lot of people! Packed just as close as herrings. There's a whole row from the Rectory. How I do palpitate, to be sure! I wish Charlie was here!”

Mr Buckle soon arrived with vexation on his brow. No sign of Busby!

He was down twice in the programme, and there was hardly a chance he would turn up. It was too bad of Busby to throw them over like that.

He might at least have _come_.

”Well, if he wasn't going to sing I don't see the good of that,” said Bella; ”but it _is_ a pity.”

”It just spoils the whole thing,” said Mr Buckle, and the other performers agreed. But to Lilac nothing could spoil the concert. It was all beautiful and glorious, and she thought each thing grander than the last. Uncle Joshua's solo almost brought tears to her eyes, partly of affection and pride and partly because he extracted such lovely and stirring sounds from the clar'net. It made her think of her mother and the cottage, and of so many dear old things of the past, that she felt sorrowful and happy at once. Next she was filled with awe by Mr Buckle's recitation, which, however, fell rather flat on the rest of the a.s.sembly; and then came the ”Edinburgh Quadrilles”, in which the performers surpa.s.sed themselves in banging and clattering. Lilac was quite carried away by enthusiasm. She stood as close to the curtain as she could, clapping with all her might. The programme was now nearly half over, and Mr Busby's first blank had been filled up by someone else. Mr Martin came hurriedly in.

”Who'll sing or play something?” he said. ”We must fill up this second place or the programme will be too short.”

His glance fell upon Lilac.

”Why, you're the little girl who was Queen? You can sing, I know.

That'll do capitally--come along.”

Lilac shrank back timidly. It was an honour to be singled out in that way, but it was also most alarming. She looked appealingly at her cousin Bella, who at once came forward.

”I don't think she knows any songs alone, sir,” she said; ”but I'll play something if you like.”

”Oh, thank you, Miss Greenways,” said Mr Martin hastily, ”we've had so much playing I think they'd like a song. I expect she knows some little thing--don't you?” to Lilac.

Lilac hesitated. There stood Mr Martin in front of her, eager and urgent, with outstretched hand as though he would hurry her at once to the platform; there was Bella fixing a mortified and angry gaze upon her; and, in the background, the other performers with surprise and disapproval on their faces. She felt that she _could_ not do it, and yet it was almost as impossible to disoblige Mr Martin, the habit of obedience, especially to a clergyman, was so strong within her.