"No. My voice is not strong enough. I am a fair amateur, but most people can find friends to sing for them quite as well as I could do; and if they hire professionals at all, they want something better--a beautiful voice like Minnie Caldecott's, for instance. As you said yourself the day I arrived, it is a fastidious age, and mediocrity cannot hope for success." "Did I say that? What a singularly unhappy remark! You must forgive it, please, because of course I had no idea what was in your mind. I don't think, however, that you ought to use the word `mediocre.' It is more a question of appropriateness. Your voice may not be suited for big entertainments--and, to speak quite frankly, I can hardly imagine your facing such an ordeal--but surely there are quieter ways of setting to work. What about children, now--children's parties? My little nieces have a party every year, and it is a serious business to find a change from the everlasting conjurer and magic-lantern. Could you not find some songs which they would like to hear?" He looked at her inquiringly, and Hope stood still in the middle of the lane and stared at him with kindling eyes. "_Children_!" she whispered beneath her breath--"_children_!" It was the prettiest thing in the world to see the different emotions chase each other over the sweet face: surprise first, and puzzled questioning; then the gradual dawning of an idea, the flush of radiant triumph. "Children's parties! Oh, what an idea! What a brilliant, brilliant ideal Mr Merrilies, how can I ever thank you? I don't know why I did not think of it myself, for it is the very thing I should love above all others; and I believe I could make it a success." She turned and began to walk rapidly forward, waving her hands and unfolding her programme with characteristic Charrington enthusiasm. "I know what I will do--I know exactly. I will tell them a story, and sing descriptive little songs at intervals. Theo shall write the words and share in the profits; and the songs shall be set to well-known airs, for children love what they know, and would enjoy joining in the choruses. Oh, it will be charming!--a new fairy tale introducing all the dear old characters--the Giant who lives alone in his Castle, and eats up every one who comes in his way. `Fe-fo-fum!' that shall be his song--`Fe-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman!' Can't you hear the deep chords in the bass? Then there must be the Prince, of course, and the most beautiful Princess that ever was seen--" "With golden hair and dark-blue eyes," put in the listener, with a look in his eyes that passed unnoticed by his excited companion.