_Thrum-thrum-tiddy-thrum_ went the Admiral's instrument.
Miss Limpenny grew desperate.

"Sophia," she pleaded, "pray sing us one of your cheerful ballads." Sophia looked at Mr.Moggridge.

He had always turned over the pages for her so devotedly.

Surely he would make some sign now.

Alas! all his eyes were for Mrs.Goodwyn-Sandys.
"I will try," she assented with something dangerously like a sob.
She stepped to the "Collard" at a pace remorselessly timed to the "Dead March," and chose her ballad--a trifle of Mr.Moggridge's composition.