“I will do so,” said Mr. Davis, with great promptitude. “This is where I get my own back.” Mr. Davis rendered that song in a quite admirable manner. When the deserved applause which greeted it had subsided, and Mr. Dodson had informed the company that owing to the unparalleled length of the programme, and the unprecedented quantity of talent that was present that evening, no encores would be granted in any circumstances whatever, Miss Hermione Leigh informed her companion that “although Percy was dirt mean, he _could_ sing,” a judgment to which Chrissie accorded her imprimatur. Mr. Dodson then announced that Mr. John Dobbs of the Alcazar Theatre, and of the London and Provincial Concerts, would render that heart-rending melody, “The Lost Chord,” which Mr. Dobbs immediately proceeded to do. As this melancholy-looking and large-eyed and profuse-haired young man drew marvellous strains from two pieces of wood and a few strings Mr. William Jordan’s thoughts strayed a moment from the thrall of the goddess. He sat with his hands clasped, his gaunt form as tense as an arrow drawn to the string. In his eyes was a dreamy rapture, and in the centre of each was a large stealthy tear. His whole being was entranced. The two ladies in whose vicinity he was, nudged one another furtively and together perused that strange countenance with great satisfaction to themselves. Upon the subsidence of the enthusiasm which Mr. John Dobbs’s effort called forth, Mr. Dodson announced that Miss Hermione Leigh of the “Peace and War Ballet” of the Alcazar Theatre, would render that touching melody, “Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,” with dance accompaniment, as performed by her before most of the bald-heads of Europe, not to mention those of Bethnal Green. This announcement was received with such favour by the gentlemen present that immediately they broke into a cheer. With immense good nature Miss Hermione Leigh swept across the room to the piano, and with the aid of the variously accomplished Mr. Dodson himself, who “scratched the ivories” by request, and also with the aid of Mr. Davis, who turned over the music after, as he expressed it, “he had cleared the course for the big race” by driving back the company, regardless of age and sex, from within an area of at least eight feet of the piano, and in spite of the fact that Aunt Tabitha, who was compelled to move her chair, stared at Mr. Davis through her glasses with a stony glare, and said at the top of a loud harsh voice, “That is a very unmannerly young man”--a remark which set the remainder of the company in roars of laughter, in which Mr. Davis joined more loudly than anybody else.