“We heard them in the drawing-room often enough, didn’t we, Gussy! Come, humor me--everybody humors me--sing me--that one, you know, with the chorus--” and the sick man hummed a bar or two of the most uproarious of those songs which had so startled the decorous family. He laughed and flashed at Janet--who by some extraordinary trick of nature was aware now, when her back was turned to him, of those looks--a wicked glance. Nothing he could have asked would have been more painful, nothing could have shone more distinctly the mockery and malice of his intention. A man who had nearly died calling upon his almost murderer for a rollicking music-hall song! It was a ghastly request to the two performers, who looked at each other, or, rather, who looked each in the direction of where the other was, with a sort of helpless, mutual appeal. “Why don’t you do it, Dolff, when Charley asks you? What does it matter, if it’s not very suitable, so long as it amuses him?” Dolff muttered something about being out of practice, not having sung anything for weeks. “No,” said Meredith, “I know how everybody has denied themselves for me. Never mind; I shall like it just as much.” “Can’t you go and do it, Dolff?” cried Gussy, impatiently, “when he tells you it will amuse him? It is not for you, to show off how well you can do it. I daresay it will amuse him more if you do it very badly. What does it matter if you are in practice or not?” Once more Dolff murmured something to the effect that he did not like to be laughed at, with his head down between his shoulders and his chin on his breast. “Good heavens!” cried Gussy, “as if it mattered! I should have thought you would be glad to be laughed at, so long as it amused him.” Dolff turned his head towards Janet in an appeal for help. She was as unwilling as he was, and felt the tragic ridicule of the proposal even more keenly, as well as the malice and cruel amusement in Meredith’s eyes. She knew that he was trying to catch her attention to make her the confidante of his meaning as usual; but Janet kept her eyes fixed upon her work, and would not see. At length, however, she rose up, and putting away the needlework she was busy with, went to the piano. If it had to be done, it was better to do it without further remark. She had played the first bars of the accompaniment several times over before Dolff reluctantly followed her. It was almost the first time he had voluntarily addressed Janet in all those weeks. He said, sullenly, “Does he want to drive me mad? Is that his revenge?” over her head. Janet replied, playing softly, “He knows nothing yet. He wants to make us both ridiculous, for no reason. Sing; I’ll help you all I can.” Dolff breathed a sigh that fluttered the music upon the piano. “What pluck you have,” he said, with unwilling admiration.