‘Scarcely,’ replied the other man.  ’Established writers of music do not expend their energies upon new verse until they find that such verse is likely to endure; for should the poet be soon forgotten, their labour is in some degree lost.’

‘Artful dogs—­who would have thought it?’ said Neigh, just as an exercise in words; and they drew nearer to the piano, less to become listeners to the singing than to be spectators of the scene in that quarter.  But among some others the interest in the songs seemed to be very great; and it was unanimously wished that the young lady who had practised the different pieces of music privately would sing some of them now in the order of their composers’ reputations.  The musical persons in the room unconsciously resolved themselves into a committee of taste.

One and another had been tried, when, at the end of the third, a lady spoke to Ethelberta.

‘Now, Mrs. Petherwin,’ she said, gracefully throwing back her face, ’your opinion is by far the most valuable.  In which of the cases do you consider the marriage of verse and tune to have been most successful?’

Ethelberta, finding these and other unexpected calls made upon herself, came to the front without flinching.

‘The sweetest and the best that I like by far,’ she said, ’is none of these.  It is one which reached me by post only this morning from a place in Wessex, and is written by an unheard-of man who lives somewhere down there—­a man who will be, nevertheless, heard a great deal of some day, I hope—­think.  I have only practised it this afternoon; but, if one’s own judgment is worth anything, it is the best.’

‘Let us have your favourite, by all means,’ said another friend of Ethelberta’s who was present—­Mrs. Doncastle.

‘I am so sorry that I cannot oblige you, since you wish to hear it,’ replied the poetess regretfully; ’but the music is at home.  I had not received it when I lent the others to Miss Belmaine, and it is only in manuscript like the rest.’

‘Could it not be sent for?’ suggested an enthusiast who knew that Ethelberta lived only in the next street, appealing by a look to her, and then to the mistress of the house.

‘Certainly, let us send for it,’ said that lady.  A footman was at once quietly despatched with precise directions as to where Christopher’s sweet production might be found.

‘What—­is there going to be something interesting?’ asked a young married friend of Mrs. Napper, who had returned to her original spot.

’Yes—­the best song she has written is to be sung in the best manner to the best air that has been composed for it.  I should not wonder if she were going to sing it herself.’

’Did you know anything of Mrs. Petherwin until her name leaked out in connection with these ballads?’

’No; but I think I recollect seeing her once before.  She is one of those people who are known, as one may say, by subscription:  everybody knows a little, till she is astonishingly well known altogether; but nobody knows her entirely.  She was the orphan child of some clergyman, I believe.  Lady Petherwin, her mother-in-law, has been taking her about a great deal latterly.’