Yet he was still utterly at loss to account for his own presence there, and this he coolly meant to do.
He was spared the necessity.

On the platform Mrs.Manners had risen to make an announcement; and St.George fancied that she must preside at her tea-urn and try on her bonnets with just that same formal little "announcement" air.
"My friends," she said, "I have now an unexpected pleasure for you and for us all.

We have with us to-day Mr.St.George, of New York.
Mr.St.George is going to sing for us." St.George stood still for a moment, looking into the expectant faces of Mrs.Manners and the other women of the Readers' Guild, a spark of understanding kindling the mirth in his eyes.

This then accounted both for his admittance to the home and for his welcome by the women upon their errand of mercy.

He had simply been very naturally mistaken for a stranger from New York who had not arrived.
But since he had accomplished something, though he did not know what, inasmuch as the slip of paper lay crushed in his hand unread, he must, he decided, pay for it.