“I will play in any way you suggest, Mr. Kelton,” said Mr. Tutt. “Will you kindly sit down to the piano and play the accompaniment as you wish it to be played?” But this invitation the tenor felt it to be his duty to decline. He was no musician. He could not play a passage from the musical score to save his life, and of this fact Mr. Tutt was well aware. “I don’t ask very much--only that you should give me a little support,” said Mr. Kelton with a suggestion of long-suffering in his voice. “I take it that the accompaniment to a song--a tenor song--should be played as if it were nothing more than a background, so to speak, and the vocalization supplies the colour. I don’t wish to discourage you, Mr. Tutt; you play quite well sometimes--quite well enough for the people about here; but we must have light and shade, Mr. Tutt. Now let us try again.” If Mr. Kelton sang with expression, Mr. Tutt played with expressions--he was almost audible at the door. But still he attacked the air with spirit. He was a very competent man; he had composed a _Magnificat_ which Miss Caffyn, the Rector’s daughter, said took a deal of beating, like a dusty carpet. Down went Mr. Kelton’s page of music once more, after he had strained up to a very shaky G, and up jumped Mr. Mozart Tutt, before the vocalist had time to formulate his latest complaint. “I’ve done my best, and if that isn’t good enough for Mr. Kelton he would do well to play his own accompaniment, or get some one to play it who will submit to his insults,” said the musician. He walked with dignity to the door leading off the platform, and was enthusiastically greeted by the five “bassi.” Mr. Tucknott, flute and all, ran away; he was fearful lest some people should associate him with the intrepid step taken by Mr. Tutt. It was the Rector’s wife who took command of the situation. She knew that the singing of Mr. Kelton increased to an appreciable extent the attractiveness of the concert, inasmuch as the Honourable Mrs. Bowlby-Sutherst had a passion for listening to tenor music, and Mrs. Bowlby-Sutherst lived at the Hall, and, her husband being patron of the living, she duly patronized the people who lived by it. It would never do, Mrs. Caffyn, the Rector’s wife, perceived, to induce the patroness to attend the concert and then find that there was no tenor solo. That was why she approached Mr. Kelton with a smile that was meant to suggest a great deal, and that certainly assured Mr. Kelton that the Church was on his side. “We mustn’t be too hard on poor Mr. Tutt,” she said soothingly. “I’m not,” cried the tenor quickly. “But it’s a little too bad that a man in my position should be subjected to the caprice of such a person. I have a great mind to throw up the whole business.” He had turned a cold shoulder to the lady, as if he meant to leave the platform that very instant.