At half-past five it was served. It consisted of a boiled turbot with shrimp sauce; green-turtle soup; roasted young ducks and green peas; pigeon-pasty; cauliflowers, asparagus, sea-kail and, in short, the choice vegetables of the month; and, for dessert, delicate whipped creams, jellies, and ices, and candied fruits, and nuts; and port, and sherry, and champagne, and moselle wines. The “fellow in the neckcloth and napkin,” as the colonel described the waiter, seeing how well these visitors were received by General Lyon and family, tried to make up for his mistakes of the morning by the most obsequious attentions, all of which the good-natured Seymour received in excellent part. Old Seymour was blessed with a keen appetite and a strong digestion. He had always enjoyed his homely farm dinners of boiled beef, or bacon and greens, washed down with native whiskey-toddy, and now he much more keenly enjoyed the rare delicacies set before him. After coffee was served they arose from the table, and the service was removed. “I suppose, my dear, there is no such thing as a treat in the form of your sweet music to be hoped for this evening?” sighed the colonel, as he took his seat in a resting chair. “Why not, Colonel Seymour?” smiled Drusilla. “Oh, to be sure, I see a piano in the room; but of course it is a hotel piano, which you would no more care to touch than I would to hear!” “Suppose you let me try this ‘hotel piano.’ Let us not yield to a prejudice, but give the abused thing a fair trial,” said Drusilla, smiling as she sat down to one of the finest instruments of the most celebrated manufacturer in London. She executed in her best style some of Colonel Seymour’s favorite pieces. And the old colonel, as usual, listened, entranced, “Why, that is one of the best toned pianos I ever heard in my life—quite as good as your own fine instrument at home!” exclaimed the old man in surprise. “But what amazes me is that it should be in such good tone. I never could abide either school pianos or hotel pianos in my life before.” “This is neither,” answered Drusilla, laughing. “We hired this from a celebrated music-bazar.” “Ah, that accounts for it!” said the colonel. “Now, my dear, begin again! Consider, I haven’t heard the sound of your sweet voice in song for a month before to-night!” “And that is just the reason why he crossed the ocean, Drusilla, my dear, and nothing else in life!” said Mrs. Seymour. “He may talk about showing Nanny the old world and improving her mind and all that, but it’s no such thing! It was the love of your music that lured him all the way from America, like the lute of What’s-his-name did the spirits out of What-do-you-call it!” Drusilla smiled on the old lady and recommenced her pleasant task, and played and sang for the old gentleman during the remainder of the evening.