"Master Tregenna's saying something unpleasant about business," thought Geoffrey. "The glorious uncertainty of the law is, perhaps, having mine host upon the hip." "Do you like music, Mr Trethick?" said a voice at his side, and he found that Rhoda Penwynn had left the vicar and approached unobserved. "You wicked young puss," he said to himself. "You've come to make a buffer of me. That's it, is it? Papa is turning angry about you, eh? and you fear a collision? Well, you shall find me full of spring." Then, smiling--"Yes, I love music," he said aloud. "I am a worshipper at a distance--rather a mild one, I should say. You will sing something, I hope?" Rhoda crossed readily to the piano, and sang a couple of ballads very sweetly, her voice being rich and resonant, and then it seemed to Geoffrey, who was turning over the music for her, that, in spite of a very brave effort to appear unconcerned, she was growing extremely nervous, for, instead of leaving the piano, she began to pick up piece after piece of music, glancing sharply from her father to Tregenna, and then at the vicar, who was placidly examining an album of scraps. "I wish you sang, Mr Trethick," she said at last. "Do you?" he said, looking down at her troubled face. "Yes. Do you? Will you?" "Nature has not been very generous to me in the matter of voice. At least she has given me plenty, but the quality is coarse. I'll try something though--with you." "A duet? Oh, yes!" she said eagerly. "What have we? Could you--do you like Italian?" "Yes," he said quietly, as he noticed how agitated she was growing, and how bravely she fought to keep it down, and preserve her composure towards her father's guests. "Shall we try that _Trovatore_ piece that you just turned over--_Ai nostri monti_." "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, and there was a silence in the room as the rich harmony of the well-blended voices floated out upon the night air. For, in spite of his modest declaration, Geoffrey Trethick possessed a full deep voice, and, being a good musician, he thoroughly enjoyed his task. "Rather hard on a baritone to set him to sing tenor, Miss Penwynn," he said, laughing. "But I say, what a delicious voice you have!" Rhoda glanced at him sharply, but the expression of admiration she could see was perfectly sincere, and she knew at once that he was not a man likely to flatter. That duet gave Rhoda Penwynn time to recover herself, and she was perfectly calm by the end--a calm she managed to maintain until the guests were about to depart. "By the way, Mr Lee," said the banker, "have you obtained apartments? It is a disgrace to our place that the vicarage is not rebuilt." "Oh, yes!" said the vicar, mildly, "I have obtained rooms." "At Mrs Mullion's, I presume?" "No," said the vicar, turning his glasses for a moment on Geoffrey. "Mr Trethick has taken those." "Indeed! Then you are at the hotel?"