. The homage we pay him flatters
us. A delightful overture, masterfully executed; ended too soon; except
that the programme forbids the ordinary interpretation of prolonged
applause. Mr. Radnor is one of those who do everything consummately. And
we have a monition within, that a course of spiritual enjoyment will
rouse the call for bodily refreshment. His genial nod and laugh and word
of commendation to his troop persuade us oddly, we know not how, of
provision to come. At the door of the retiring-room, see, he is
congratulated by Luciani and Durandarte. Miss Priscilla Graves is now to
sing a Schumann. Down later, it is a duet with the Rev. Septimus Barmby.
We have nothing to be ashamed of in her, before an Italian Operatic
singer! Ices after the first part is over.

CHAPTER XXI

DARTREY FENELLAN

Had Nataly and Nesta known who was outside helping Skepsey to play ball
with the boys, they would not have worked through their share of the
performance with so graceful a composure. Even Simeon Fenellan was
unaware that his half-brother Dartrey had landed in England. Dartrey went
first to Victor's office, where he found Skepsey packing the day's
letters and circulars into the bag for the delivery of them at Lakelands.
They sprang a chatter, and they missed the last of the express trains
which did, not greatly signify, Skepsey said, 'as it was a Concert.' To
hear his hero talk, was the music for him; and he richly enjoyed the
pacing along the railway-platform.

Arrived on the grounds, they took opposite sides in a game of rounders,
at that moment tossing heads or tails for innings. These boys were
slovenly players, and were made unhappy by Skepsey's fussy instructions
to them in smartness. They had a stupid way of feeding the stick, and
they ran sprawling; it concerned Great Britain for them to learn how to
use their legs. It was pitiful for the country to see how lumpish her
younger children were. Dartrey knew his little man and laughed, after
warning him that his English would want many lessons before they
stomached the mixture of discipline and pleasure. So it appeared: the
pride of the boys in themselves, their confidence, enjoyment of the game,
were all gone; and all were speedily out but Skepsey; who ran for the
rounder, with his coat off, sharp as a porpoise, and would have got it,
he had it in his grasp, when, at the jump, just over the line of the
goal, a clever fling, if ever was, caught him a crack on that