"But, my dear Miss Terrill, it’s quite impossible," protested the amazed cleric; "you were so very keen on the soirée, and your name has been sent to the printer with the rest of the good people who are singing. Here’s the proof." He fussed at his desk and produced a sheet of paper. "Here we are," he said, and she read:— "No. 5 (song), ’Tell me, where is fancy bred’—Miss A. Terrill. "No. 6 (song), ’In my quiet garden’—The Duc de Montvillier." "And here again in Part II," said the vicar. She took the papers with an unsteady hand. "No. 11 (song), ’I heard a voice’—Miss A. Terrill. "No. 12 (song), ’Alice, where art thou’—The Duc de Montvillier." She looked at the vicar helplessly. "Why—why does the Duke follow me?" she asked weakly. "It was his special wish," explained the other. "He said his voice would serve to emphasize the sweetness of your singing and coming, as it would, immediately after your song—these are his own words—_his_ feeble efforts would bring the audience to a——" "Oh yes," she interrupted impatiently, "I can well imagine all that he said, and I’m _thoroughly_ decided that the programme _must_ be rearranged." In the end she had her way. For some reason she omitted to convey to her mother the gist of the conversation. If the truth must be told, she had already regretted having spoken of the matter at all to her family, for her mother’s letter to the Tanneurs had brought to her a greater infliction than her impetuous suitor. Whatever opinion might be held of the genius of Hal Tanneur at Hydeholm, in the expressive language of the 9th’s mess, he was "no flier." The girl had learnt of his coming with dismay, and the gleam of hope that perhaps after all, he _might_ be able to effectively snub the young man of the step ladder, was quickly extinguished as the result of the brief skirmish she had witnessed. And Hal was attentive in his heavy way, and had tricks of elephantine gallantry that caused her more annoyance than alarm.