Mr. Vergoe sang "Champagne Charlie" and "In Her Hair She Wore a White Camelia," and Mr. Raeburn joined in the chorus of the former with a note of personal satisfaction, while Mrs. Raeburn always said: "Champagne Charlie _is_ his name, Half a pint of porter _is_ his game." Neither Miss Vergoe nor Miss Vaughan would oblige with a dance, to the great disappointment of Mr. Smithers, who had hoped for a solution of many sartorial puzzles from such close proximity to two actresses. Jenny, however, was set on the table when the plates had been cleared away, and danced a breakdown to the great embarrassment of Mrs. Purkiss, who feared for pasty-faced Percy and Claude's sense of the shocking. Percy recited Casabianca, and Claude, though he did not recite himself, prompted his brother in so many of the lines that it became, to all purposes, a duet. Edie giggled in a corner with Mr. Smithers, and told the latter once or twice that he was a sauce-box and no mistake. Mr. Smithers himself sang "Queen of My Heart," in a mildly pleasant tenor voice, and, being encored, sang "Maid of Athens," and told Miss Vergoe, in confidence, that several persons had passed the remark that he was very like Lord Byron. To which Miss Vergoe, with great want of appreciation, replied, "Who cares?" and sent Mr. Smithers headlong back to the readier admiration of Edie. It was a very delightful evening, indeed, whose most delightful moment, perhaps, was Mrs. Purkiss's retirement with Percy and Claude, leaving the rest of the party to settle themselves round the kitchen fire, roast chestnuts, eat oranges and apples, smoke, and drink the various drinks that became their ages and tastes. "And what's Jenny going to call herself on the stage?" asked Mr. Vergoe. "What _does_ the man mean?" said Mrs. Raeburn. "Well, she must have a stage name. Raeburn is too long." "It's no longer than Vergoe," argued Mrs. Raeburn, looking at Lilli. "Oh, but she already had a stage name--so to speak," explained the old man proudly. "What's Jenny's second name?" "Pearl," said Mrs. Raeburn. "Oh, mother, you needn't go telling everybody." "There you are," said Charlie, who had waited for this moment fourteen years. "There you are; I told you she wouldn't thank you for it when you would give it her. Pearl! Whoever heard? Tut-tut!" "Why shouldn't she call herself Jenny Pearl--Miss Jenny Pearl?" said Mr. Vergoe. "If it isn't a good Christian name, it's a very showy stage name, as it were--or wait a bit--what about Jenny Vere? There was a queen or something called Jennivere--no now, I come to think of it, that was Guinevere." "I can't think whatever on earth she wants to call herself anything different from what she is," persisted the mother. "Well, I don't know either, but it's done. Even Lilli here, she spells her first name differently--L-i-double l-i, and Miss Vaughan here, I'll bet Vaughan ain't her own name--in a manner of speaking."