"When are you going to have Mr. Barrison sing for us, Mr. Kelly?" asked Diana. Barney shrugged his shoulders. "A poor worm of an accompanist can't answer that, Miss Wilbur." "But I suppose you will be practicing, or rehearsing at times, will you not?" "Yes. I understand there is a piano in the little Casino that was pointed out to me. I understand--eh, Barrison?" Philip nodded. "Yes, they have allowed me to engage an hour a day on that piano for a while, for some work we have to do." Diana's face lighted beautifully. "And may one--may one sit on the piazza?" she asked beseechingly. "I should advise one not to," said Philip, "unless one has been inoculated for strong language." "I should not in the least mind what you said." "But you would what Barney says, at times." "The verdure about the hall is free," said Diana doubtfully. "Yes, if you don't mind a baseball in the eye once in a while. That is where the boys do congregate." "He's a most ungrateful ass--Barrison," said Barney warmly. "Of course you shall sit on the piazza if you care about it. I promise to restrain my _penchant_ for calling him pet names in private. I have to do it, you see, to strike a balance. At performances, who so meek as the accompanist! Barrison stands there, dolled up in his dress-clothes, probably a white carnation in his buttonhole; the women down front gazing at him and ruining their best gloves. I gaze at him, too,"--Kelly looked up with meek worship,--"like a flower at the sun, waiting for the sultan to throw the handkerchief, or, in other words, give me a careless nod, indicating that I may come to life. At last he does so, and I begin to play--subserviently, unostentatiously. Very few in the house know that I am there. He reaches his climax, he finishes with a pianissimo that curls around all the women's hearts, draws them out and strings them on a wire before him. Then the applause bursts forth. He bows over and over again, until he looks like a blond mandarin, and I rise, but nobody knows it, and when he has passed me on his way off the stage, I come to heel like a well-trained dog, and--there we are!" As Kelly finished his harangue with a gesture of both hands, the girls were laughing and Diana was quite flushed. "What a fool you are, Barney," said Philip calmly, still biting the honey out of the red clover. "He plays like a house afire," he added, turning to the girls. "You will be delighted." "Oh, yes," said Kelly. "On the road I get a group. I play the Chopin and Grieg things that the girls practice at home, and they get out their vanity cases and prink and wait for Barrison to come on again." "Oh, cut it out, you idiot!" exclaimed Philip, jumping up. "I don't believe they're going to get one of those mackerel. Let's amuse little Veronica and go up and have a game of croquet." Meanwhile Mr. Gayne had again taken his nephew with him to the farm.