Pennell stood aloof, battling to restrain his laughter at the comical sight before him. The Baroness’s foot, from which she had taken the shoe, was garbed in a black woollen stocking full of holes, which displayed a set of bare toes. But, apparently quite unaware of the ludicrous object she presented, she kept on calling out for Harriet Brandt and Miss Wynward to come and complete the circle at which only Mr. Milliken and herself were seated. But Harriet shrank backwards and refused to play. “No! indeed, Madame, I cannot. I do not know your English games!” she pleaded. “Come on, we’ll teach you!” screamed Madame Gobelli, “’ere’s Milliken, ’e knows all about it, don’t you, Milliken? ’E knows ’ow to look for the slipper under the gal’s petticoats. You come ’ere, ’Arriet, and sit next me, and Mr. Pennell shall be the first to ’unt. Come on!” But Miss Brandt would not “come on”. She remained seated, and declared that she was too tired to play and did not care for _les jeux innocents_, and she had a headache, and anything and everything, before she would comply with the outrageous request preferred to her. Madame Gobelli grumbled at her idleness and called her disobliging, but Anthony admired the girl for her steadfast refusal. He did not like to see her in the familiar society of such a woman as the Baroness--he would have liked still less to see her engaged in such a boisterous and unseemly game as “Hunt the slipper.” He took the opportunity of saying, “Since you are disinclined for such an energetic game, Miss Brandt, perhaps you would oblige me by singing a song! I should so much like to hear the mandoline. Mrs. Pullen has spoken to me of your efficiency on it.” “If Madame Gobelli wishes it, I have no objection,” replied Harriet. “Oh! well! if you are all going to be so disagreeable as not to play a good game,” said the Baroness, as Mr. Milliken pulled her on her feet again, “’Arriet may as well sing to us! But a good romp first wouldn’t ’ave done us any ’arm!” She adjourned rather sulkily to a distant sofa with Mr. Milliken, where they entertained each other whilst Harriet tuned her mandoline and presently let her rich voice burst forth in the strains of “Oh! ma Charmante.” Anthony Pennell was enchanted. He had a passion for music, and it appealed more powerfully to him than anything else. He sat in rapt attention until Harriet’s voice had died away, and then he implored her to sing another song. “You cannot tell what it is for me, who cares more for music than for anything else in this world, to hear a voice like yours. Why! you will create a perfect _furore_ when you go into society. You could make your fortune on the stage, but I know you have no need of that!” “Oh! one never knows what one may have need of,” said Harriet gaily, as she commenced “Dormez, ma belle”, and sang it to perfection. “You must have had a very talented singing-master,” observed Pennell when the second song was finished.