Now, I wanted, above all things, to draw Will and Sir Adolphus together and allow them to become better acquainted. And Sir Adolphus, I knew, wished to talk to me, for he had begun to ask at dinner whether I thought it would interest Spenworth to see his pictures. I therefore suggested that, if _I_ might express a wish, it would be for a little music. Sir Adolphus assented at once and asked one of these rather ambiguous young women to play, while I made room for him on the sofa and beckoned to Will. The Maitland boy--it was _not_ very tactful of the Erskines--had been invited for the same week-end, but he was mooning about like a lost soul, looking at the pictures and talking to Lady Erskine... "You asked me," I began, "to contrive a meeting--" "Won't you wait until this is over?," suggested Sir Adolphus, with a nod towards the piano. "I don't mind it," I said. "Now, Will has been away at the war since the beginning of 1916..." I won't weary _you_, but I gave him a little account of my boy's work on the staff, what were his tastes and ambitions ... and so on and so forth. I really don't know what this girl had begun to play, but she must have changed suddenly, for the noise became deafening... "I really can't talk against that," I protested. Sir Adolphus went to the piano and whispered something, but the noise only increased. "And she can't play against your talking," shouted Will. "That's Elsie Creyne, in case you don't know, and I'll bet she doesn't much care about people talking when she's playing. I've been watching her to see what would happen." "Then I think, in ordinary kindness, you might have warned me," I said. "_I_ have no wish to hurt the young woman's feelings." "I thought it might be rather a rag," was all Will would say. "I'm rather bored with this place. I kept going at dinner because there was plenty of champagne; but, if somebody doesn't do something, I shall have to brighten things up by pulling old Herr von Erckmann's leg. He had the cheek to criticize the staff at the end of dinner; I switched the conversation on to repatriation of aliens, but I haven't done with him yet." It is this boyish irresponsibility that may be Will's undoing! _Mere_ high spirits... Before I could utter a word of warning, the music had changed again, every one was dancing and Will had jumped up to join them. I looked on--and marvelled; I had not seen any of these modern dances. And, when I could bear it no longer, I turned my back and began reading a paper... That did in _time_ have an effect; or perhaps they merely tired of their revels. But truly honestly, if _I_ had not made a protest, _no_ one would. Nothing was said, but there was what I can only call an atmosphere of guilt. Then Sir Adolphus discovered that dancing, too, was "unsociable" and enquired whether there was not something that we could _all_ do...