“Oh, do let us sing it,” said Harriet. “You must help me when I go wrong, because I don’t know it well.” “What part do you want to sing?” said Jack. “Oh, I sing the first part.” “Nay,” said Jack. “I sing that part myself. I’m a high tenor, I am, once I get the wind up.” “I couldn’t possibly sing the alto,” said Harriet. “Oh, Jack, do sing the alto,” said Victoria. “Go on, do! I’ll help you.” “Oh well, if you’ll go bail for me, I don’t care what I do,” said Jack. And very shortly Somers heard a gorgeous uproar in Wyewurk. Harriet breaking down occasionally, and being picked up. She insisted on keeping on till she had it perfect, and the other two banged and warbled away with no signs of fatigue. So that they were still hailing the Larboard Watch Ahoy when the clock struck eleven. Then when silence did ensue for a moment, Mrs Callcott came flying over to Torestin. “Oh, Mr Somers, won’t you come and have a drink with Jack? Mrs Somers is having a glass of hop bitters.” When Somers entered the living room of Wyewurk, Jack looked up at him with a smile and a glow in his dark eyes, almost like love. “Beer?” he said. “What’s the alternative?” “Nothing but gas-water.” “Then beer.” Harriet and Victoria were still at the piano, excitedly talking songs. Harriet was teaching Victoria to pronounce the words of a Schubert song: for there was still one person in the world unacquainted with: “Du bist wie eine Blume.” And Victoria was singing it in a wavering, shy little voice. “Let’s drink our beer by the kitchen fire,” said Jack. “Then we shall be able to hear ourselves speak, which is more than we can do in this aviary.” Somers solemnly followed into the tiny kitchen, and they sat in front of the still hot stove. “The women will keep up the throat-stretching for quite a time yet,” said Jack. “If we let them. It’s getting late.” “Oh, I’ve just started my second awakening--feel as sharp as a new tin-tack.” “Talking about pessimism,” he resumed after a pause. “There’s some of us here that feels things are pretty shaky, you know.” He spoke in a subdued, important sort of voice. “What is shaky--Australian finance?” “Ay, Australian everything.” “Well, it’s pretty much the same in every country. Where there’s such a lot of black smoke there’s not a very big fire. The world’s been going to the dogs ever since it started to toddle, apparently.” “Ay, I suppose it has. But it’ll get there one day. At least Australia will.” “What kind of dogs?” “Maybe financial smash, and then hell to pay all round. Maybe, you know. We’ve got to think about it.” Somers watched him for some moments with serious eyes. Jack seemed as if he were a little bit drunk. Yet he had only drunk a glass of lager beer. He wasn’t drunk. But his face had changed, it had a kind of eagerness, and his eyes glowed big. Strange, he seemed, as if in a slight ecstasy.