The school-room was crowded with friends and neighbours. Mr.
Perkins was flying about, getting things into readiness, and Miss
Reade, who was the organist of the evening, was sitting on the
platform, looking her sweetest and prettiest. She wore a
delightful white lace hat with a fetching little wreath of tiny
forget-me-nots around the brim, a white muslin dress with sprays
of blue violets scattered over it, and a black lace scarf.
"Doesn't she look angelic?" said Cecily rapturously.
"Mind you," said Sara Ray, "the Awkward Man is here--in the corner
behind the door. I never remember seeing him at a concert
before."
"I suppose he came to hear the Story Girl recite," said Felicity.
"He is such a friend of hers."
The concert went off very well. Dialogues, choruses and
recitations followed each other in rapid succession. Felix got
through his without "getting stuck," and Peter did excellently,
though he stuffed his hands in his trousers pockets--a habit of
which Mr. Perkins had vainly tried to break him. Peter's
recitation was one greatly in vogue at that time, beginning,
"My name is Norval; on the Grampian hills
My father feeds his flocks."
At our first practice Peter had started gaily in, rushing through
the first line with no thought whatever of punctuation--" My name
is Norval on the Grampian Hills.
Pages:
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204