"Scarcely affected enough," whispered Lady Hammergallow hoarsely, suddenly poking the Vicar in the ribs. The Vicar came out of Dreamland suddenly. "Eigh?" shouted the Vicar, startled, coming up with a jump. "Sssh!" said the Curate from Iping Hanger, and everyone looked shocked at the brutal insensibility of Hilyer. "So unusual of the Vicar," said the very eldest Miss Papaver, "to do things like that!" The Angel went on playing. The Curate from Iping Hanger began making mesmeric movements with his index finger, and as the thing proceeded Mr Rathbone-Slater got amazingly limp. He solemnly turned his hat round and altered his view. The Vicar lapsed from an uneasy discomfort into dreamland again. Lady Hammergallow rustled a great deal, and presently found a way of making her chair creak. And at last the thing came to an end. Lady Hammergallow exclaimed "De--licious!" though she had never heard a note, and began clapping her hands. At that everyone clapped except Mr Rathbone-Slater, who rapped his hat brim instead. The Curate from Iping Hanger clapped with a judicial air. "So I said (_clap, clap, clap_), if you cannot cook the food my way (_clap, clap, clap_) you must _go_," said Mrs Pirbright, clapping vigorously. "(This music is a delightful treat.)" "(It is. I always _revel_ in music,)" said the very eldest Miss Papaver. "And did she improve after that?" "Not a bit of it," said Mrs Pirbright. The Vicar woke up again and stared round the saloon. Did other people see these visions, or were they confined to him alone? Surely they must all see ... and have a wonderful command of their feelings. It was incredible that such music should not affect them. "He's a trifle _gauche_," said Lady Hammergallow, jumping upon the Vicar's attention. "He neither bows nor smiles. He must cultivate oddities like that. Every successful executant is more or less _gauche_." "Did you really make that up yourself?" said Mrs Jehoram, sparkling her eyes at him, "as you went along. Really, it is _wonderful_! Nothing less than wonderful." "A little amateurish," said the Curate from Iping Hanger to Mr Rathbone-Slater. "A great gift, undoubtedly, but a certain lack of sustained training. There were one or two little things ... I would like to talk to him." "His trousers look like concertinas," said Mr Rathbone-Slater. "He ought to be told _that_. It's scarcely decent." "Can you do Imitations, Mr Angel?" said Lady Hammergallow. "Oh _do_, do some Imitations!" said Mrs Jehoram. "I adore Imitations." "It was a fantastic thing," said the Curate of Iping Hanger to the Vicar of Siddermorton, waving his long indisputably musical hands as he spoke; "a little involved, to my mind. I have heard it before somewhere--I forget where. He has genius undoubtedly, but occasionally he is--loose. There is a certain deadly precision wanting. There are years of discipline yet."