Now, Hope was a warm-hearted girl, and, as was only natural, had given many a thought to the lover of the future; but it never occurred to her that there was any danger in the interest which she felt in Ralph Merrilies, or in her intense consciousness of his presence. She deluded herself into the belief that she was less cordially disposed to him than to any other member of the party, for she had been warned that another girl considered him her individual property, and was by no means willing to share his attentions. So it came to pass that she kept quietly in the background, and had little or nothing to say to Truda's cavalier. On the third evening of Hope's stay at The Shanty the sportsmen came home unusually tired, and for once Truda's after-dinner tricks failed to entertain. The men had no inclination to exert their minds or their muscles either, and turning to Hope, begged her for "a tune." "The worst of Miss Charrington," sighed Reggie Blake regretfully, "is that she is so painfully classical and superior. She never condescends to play a piece whose composer hasn't seven syllables to his name and a sneeze in the middle. They are very clever and all that sort of thing, don't you know, but I always wonder when the tune is going to begin. Squeak, squeak! in the treble; bang, bang! in the bass; a rolling like heavy machinery, and all sorts of jerks and breaks when you are least expecting them: that is what you call a `Gigue.' A bit of a scale repeated over and over again like the tune the old cow died of: that is a `Fugue.' I've a musical sister at home, so I know. Now, I don't pretend to be classical; I like a good, rousing air--something that makes you want to stamp your feet and beat time with your head. Look at Miss Charrington laughing at me! I suppose as a matter of fact you don't _know_ any airs, Miss Charrington?" "I have a schoolboy brother," answered Hope demurely. She wheeled round on the music-stool and looked at him with dancing eyes; and when Hope looked mischievous, it was something very well worth seeing in those days of young womanhood. "I blush to say," she said slowly--though as a matter of fact she did not blush at all, but looked particularly beaming and complacent--"I blush to say that there is not a single tune at present performed upon the barrel-organs with which I am not intimately acquainted. I shall be happy to accompany you, and to coach you in the words, whenever you feel inclined to perform." "Hurrah! Good business! Will you really!" cried Reggie, jumping to his feet and hurrying across to the piano, abeam with delight. "Can you manage `Mrs 'Enry 'Awkins'? That is my stock song, and I sing it wherever I go.--Mrs Loftus, you are dying to hear me sing `Mrs 'Enry 'Awkins'? I know you are.--Let's tune up at once, Miss Charrington; and a chorus, mind--a rousing old chorus!"