"Oh, yes, it did!" remonstrated Appleton. "They loved your Scotch songs." "Silently!" cried Tommy. "I had dozens and dozens of other things upstairs to sing to them, but I thought I was suiting my programme to the place and the people. I looked at them during luncheon and made my selections." "You are flattering the week-enders." "I believe you are musical," she ventured, looking up at him as she played with a tuft of sea-pinks. "I am passionately fond of singing, so I seldom go to concerts," he answered, somewhat enigmatically. "Your programme was an enchanting one to me." "It was good of its kind, if the audience would have helped me,"--and Tommy's lip trembled a little; "but perhaps I could have borne that, if it hadn't been for the--plate." "Not a pleasant custom, and a new one to me," said Appleton. "And to me!" (Here she made a little grimace of disgust.) "I knew beforehand I had to face the plate--but the contents! Where did you sit?" "I was forced to stay a trifle in the background, I entered so late. It was your 'Minstrel Boy' that dragged me out of my armchair in the lounge." "Then perhaps you saw the plate? I know by your face that you did! You saw the sixpences, which I shall never forget, and the pennies, which I will never forgive! I thirst for the blood of those who put in pennies!" "They would all have been sitting in boiling oil since Friday if I had had my way," responded Appleton. Tommy laughed delightedly. "I know now who put in the sovereign! I knew every face in that audience--that wasn't difficult in so small a one--and I tried and tried to fix the sovereign on any one of them, and couldn't. At last I determined that it was the old gentleman who went out in the middle of 'Allan Water,' feeling that he would rather pay anything than stay any longer. Confess! it _was_ you!" Appleton felt very sheepish as he met Tommy's dancing eyes and heightened color. "I couldn't bear to let you see those pennies," he stammered, "but I couldn't get them out before the page came to take the plate." "Perhaps you were 'pound foolish,' and the others were 'penny wise,' but it was awfully nice of you. If I can pay my bill here without spending that sovereign, I believe I'll keep it for a lucky piece. I shall be very rich by Saturday night, anyway." "A legacy due?" "Goodness, no! I haven't a relation in the world except one, who disapproves of me; not so much as I disapprove of him, however. No, Albert Spalding and Donald Tovey have engaged me for a concert in Torquay." "I have some business in Torquay which will keep me there for a few days on my way back to Wells," said Appleton nonchalantly. (The bishop's letter had been a pure and undefiled source of information on all points.) "Why, how funny! I hope you'll be there on Saturday. There'll be no plate! Tickets two and six to seven and six, but you shall be my guest, my sovereign guest. I am going to Wells myself to stay till--till I make up my mind about a few things."