to throw them over like that.
He might at least have _come_.

"Well, if he wasn't going to sing I don't see the good of that," said
Bella; "but it _is_ a pity."

"It just spoils the whole thing," said Mr Buckle, and the other
performers agreed. But to Lilac nothing could spoil the concert. It
was all beautiful and glorious, and she thought each thing grander than
the last. Uncle Joshua's solo almost brought tears to her eyes, partly
of affection and pride and partly because he extracted such lovely and
stirring sounds from the clar'net. It made her think of her mother and
the cottage, and of so many dear old things of the past, that she felt
sorrowful and happy at once. Next she was filled with awe by Mr
Buckle's recitation, which, however, fell rather flat on the rest of the
assembly; and then came the "Edinburgh Quadrilles", in which the
performers surpassed themselves in banging and clattering. Lilac was
quite carried away by enthusiasm. She stood as close to the curtain as
she could, clapping with all her might. The programme was now nearly
half over, and Mr Busby's first blank had been filled up by someone
else. Mr Martin came hurriedly in.

"Who'll sing or play something?" he said. "We must fill up this second
place or the programme will be too short."

His glance fell upon Lilac.

"Why, you're the little girl who was Queen? You can sing, I know.
That'll do capitally--come along."

Lilac shrank back timidly. It was an honour to be singled out in that
way, but it was also most alarming. She looked appealingly at her
cousin Bella, who at once came forward.

"I don't think she knows any songs alone, sir," she said; "but I'll play
something if you like."

"Oh, thank you, Miss Greenways," said Mr Martin hastily, "we've had so
much playing I think they'd like a song. I expect she knows some little
thing--don't you?" to Lilac.

Lilac hesitated. There stood Mr Martin in front of her, eager and
urgent, with outstretched hand as though he would hurry her at once to
the platform; there was Bella fixing a mortified and angry gaze upon
her; and, in the background, the other performers with surprise and
disapproval on their faces. She felt that she _could_ not do it, and
yet it was almost as impossible to disoblige Mr Martin, the habit of
obedience, especially to a clergyman, was so strong within her.
Suddenly there sounded close to her ear a gruff and friendly voice:

"Give 'em the `Last Rose of S