ree from defects that she was rather irritating, began to sing, then
people listened. Karl von Rosen listened. She really had a voice
which always surprised and charmed with the first notes, then ceased
to charm. Leila MacDonald was as a good canary bird, born to sing,
and dutifully singing, but without the slightest comprehension of her
song. It was odd too that she sang with plenty of expression, but her
own lack of realisation seemed to dull it for her listeners. Karl von
Rosen listened, then his large eyes again turned introspective.

Mrs. Edes again arose, after the singing and playing ladies had
finished their performance and returned to their seats, and announced
a recitation by Miss Sally Anderson. Miss Anderson wore a light
summer gown, and swept to the front, and bent low to her audience,
then at once began her recitation with a loud crash of emotion. She
postured, she gesticulated. She lowered her voice to inaudibility,
she raised it to shrieks and wails. She did everything which she had
been taught, and she had been taught a great deal. Mrs. Sarah Joy
Snyder listened and got data for future lectures, with her mirthful
mouth sternly set.

After Sally Anderson, Mrs. Jack Evarts played a glittering thing
called "Waves of the Sea." Then Sally Anderson recited again, then
Mrs. Wilbur Edes spoke at length, and with an air which commanded
attention, and Von Rosen suffered agonies. He laughed with sickly
spurts at Mrs. Snyder's confidential sallies, when she had at last
her chance to deliver herself of her ten dollar speech, but the worst
ordeal was to follow. Von Rosen was fluttered about by women bearing
cups of tea, of frothy chocolate, plates of cake, dishes of bonbons,
and saucers of ice-cream. He loathed sweets and was forced into
accepting a plate. He stood in the midst of the feminine throng, the
solitary male figure looking at his cup of chocolate, and a slice of
sticky cake, and at an ice representing a chocolate lily, which
somebody had placed for special delectation upon a little table at
his right. Then Alice Mendon came to his rescue.

She deftly took the plate with the sticky cake, and the cup of hot
chocolate, and substituted a plate with a chicken mayonnaise
sandwich, smiling pleasantly as she did so.

"Here," she whispered. "Why do you make a martyr of yourself for such
a petty cause? Do it for the faith if you want to, but not for thick
chocolate and angel cake."

She swept away the chocola