“I think so,” rejoined Mrs. Blumenthal.  “Music is a sleeping beauty, that needs the touch of a prince to waken her.  Perhaps you will play something for us, Mr. Bright?” She rose and vacated the music-stool as she spoke.

“I should be ashamed to try my clumsy fingers in your presence, ladies,” he replied.  “But I’ll sing the Star-spangled Banner, if you will have the goodness to accompany me.”

She reseated herself, and he lifted up his voice and sang.  When he had done, he drew a long breath, wiped the perspiration from his face with a bandana handkerchief, and laughed as he said:  “I made the screen of your gas-light shake, ma’am.  The fact is, when I sing that, I have to put all my heart into it.”

“And all your voice, too,” rejoined Mrs. Blumenthal.

“O, no,” answered he, “I could have put on a good deal more steam, if I hadn’t been afraid of drowning the piano.  I’m greatly obliged to you, ladies; and I hope I shall have the pleasure of hearing you again in my own house.  I should like to hear some more now, but I’ve stayed too long.  My wife agreed to meet me at a store, and I don’t know what she’ll say to me.”

“Tell her we detained you by playing to you,” said Mrs. Blumenthal.

“O, that would be too much like Adam,” rejoined he.  “I always feel ashamed to look a woman in the face, after reading that story.  I always thought Adam was a mean cuss to throw off all the blame on Eve.”  With a short bow, and a hasty “Good morning, ladies,” he went out.

His parting remark amused Flora so much, that she burst into one of her musical peals of laughter; while her more cautious friend raised her handkerchief to her mouth, lest their visitor should hear some sound of mirth, and mistake its import.

“What a great, beaming face!” exclaimed Flora.  “It looks like a sunflower.  I have a fancy for calling him Monsieur Girasol.  What a pity Mr. Green hadn’t longed for a musical instrument, and been too poor to buy one.  It would have done him so much good to have astonished himself by waking up a tune in the Harmolinks.”

“Yes,” responded Mrs. Delano, “it might have saved him the trouble of going to Arabia Petraea or Damascus, in search of something new.  What do you think about accepting Mr. Bright’s offer?” “O, I hope we shall go, Mamita.  The children would be delighted with him.  If Alfred had been here this morning, he would have exclaimed, ‘Isn’t he jolly?’”

“I think things must go cheerfully where such a sunflower spirit presides,” responded Mrs. Delano.  “And he is certainly sufficiently au naturel to suit you and Florimond.”

“Yes, he bubbles over,” rejoined Flora.  “It isn’t the fashion; but I like folks that bubble over.”

Mrs. Delano smiled as she answered:  “So do I. And perhaps you can guess who it was that made me in love with bubbling over?”

Flora gave a knowing smile, and dotted one of her comic little courtesies.  “I don’t see what makes you and Florimond like me so well,” said she.  “I’m sure I’m neither wise nor witty.”