"Aha--ha Mistare Gay, I haf _you_ now," chuckled Pepusch. "Your Purcell Engleesh is. He copy de Italian den." "Oh, may be--may be in his own style," rejoined Gay hastily. "But here is my verse. Oblige me with the music." During the discussion Gay had been turning over a pile of manuscript on the table. This manuscript was a rough draft of the "Beggar's Opera." Pepusch had before him the music of a number of tunes, most of them well known, selected by Gay and himself as suitable for the songs in the opera. Poet and musician had had repeated differences as to the choice of melodies but things had now fairly settled down. Lavinia meanwhile was watching the proceedings with no little interest and with not less nervousness. She had heard the talk and saw quite well that she was about to be put to a severe test. She was to sing something she had never sung before and possibly written in a style with which she was unfamiliar. Gay approached her with a sheet of manuscript which he put into her hand. "You did very well, child," said he encouragingly. "But I want you to do better. Dr. Pepusch will play the music for these verses on the harpsichord. You must listen closely to the melody and take particular note of the way he plays it. Then you will sing it. Here are the words and the music. Study them while the doctor plays." Lavinia looked at both in something like dismay. The music being engraved was plainer than Gay's cramped handwriting. She knew she had imitative gifts and that most tunes she heard for the first time she could reproduce exactly. But that was for her own pleasure. She at such times abandoned herself to the power of music. But for the pleasure of others and to know that she was being criticised was a different matter. Already she felt distracted. Could she fix her attention on the music and think of nothing else? There was no time for reflection. Dr. Pepusch had gone into the house and the thin but sweet tones of a harpsichord were floating through the open window. He was striking a few preliminary chords and indulging in an extemporised prelude. A pause, and then he commenced Purcell's song. The plaintive melody with its well balanced phrasing took Lavinia's fancy, and absorbed in the music she forgot her audience. She saw how the words were wedded to the notes and watched where the trills and graces came in. Pepusch played the air right through; waited a minute or so and recommenced. Lavinia began. She sang like one inspired. Her pure and limpid tones gave fresh charm to the melody. She never had had any difficulty with the trill, so flexible was her voice naturally, and the graces which Purcell had introduced after the fashion of the day were given with perfect ease. As the final cadence died away the little audience loudly applauded. Pepusch came out of the house and wagged his head as he crossed the lawn. His somewhat sour look had vanished. He went up to Lavinia and patted her shoulder.