It seemed that Clytie had chosen the moment when her remark would be best heard by every one, and a horrible silence followed it, as if some deadly explosive had suddenly been flung down in their midst. Maxwell heard a sudden little breathless exclamation from Cornelia. He flung a swift glance around the company. Grace Kendall stood quietly apart. Brand Barlock looked amused with a keen appraisement of the effect of Clytie’s words on every one present. Carey, caught by the unexpected momentum of the girl’s action, was whirled about in spite of himself, and recovered his balance angrily, flinging her off. “What’s the matter with you?” he said in a low, muttering tone; then, trying to recover his politeness in the face of everybody, he added haughtily, “No, we haven’t got a victrola, I’m thankful to say!” and he cast a swift furtive glance at the minister’s daughter. What must she think of him for having a girl like that make free with him. His face was crimson, and for the first time since he had known Clytie Dodd he put the question to himself whether she was exactly the kind of girl he wanted for an intimate friend. The silence in the room was intense. There seemed to be a kind of spell over the onlookers that no one was able to break. Clytie looked defiantly about upon them, and felt she had the floor. “Oh, well, be a boob if you want. You ain’t the only pebble on the beach. Come on, Brand. Let’s do the shimmy. You can whistle if no one knows how to play.” It was plain that she was angry, and did not care what she said or did. Carey had turned white and miserable, Cornelia looked ready to drop. Young Maxwell noticed the worn hands of the father clinch and his face grow gray and drawn. Mr. Copley gave the impression that he would like above all things to take Clytie in thumb and finger and, holding her at arm’s length, eject her from the room as one would get rid of some vulgar little animal that was making an unpleasant scene. The young man gave one more swift look at the annoyed face of the girl beside him, and then stepped forward, noticing as he did so that even Brand was a bit annoyed at the turn affairs had taken. Even he saw that Clytie’s suggestion was out of place. “Miss Dodd,” said Maxwell in a clear, commanding voice, with a pleasant smile that at once held Clytie Dodd’s attention. She turned to him eagerly, all too evidently expecting he was going to offer to dance with her; and the rest of the little audience stood in breathless waiting. “I’m sure you won’t mind if we interrupt you. Miss Copley was just going to play for some singing. You’ll join us, of course. I’m sure you have a good voice, and we want everybody. Let’s all gather around the piano.” He turned with a swift appeal to Cornelia to bear him out. He had taken a chance, of course. What if Miss Copley did not play? But there was the piano, and there was music scattered about. Somebody must play.