harpsichord were floating through the
open window. He was striking a few preliminary chords and indulging in
an extemporised prelude. A pause, and then he commenced Purcell's song.

The plaintive melody with its well balanced phrasing took Lavinia's
fancy, and absorbed in the music she forgot her audience. She saw how
the words were wedded to the notes and watched where the trills and
graces came in. Pepusch played the air right through; waited a minute or
so and recommenced.

Lavinia began. She sang like one inspired. Her pure and limpid tones
gave fresh charm to the melody. She never had had any difficulty with
the trill, so flexible was her voice naturally, and the graces which
Purcell had introduced after the fashion of the day were given with
perfect ease. As the final cadence died away the little audience loudly
applauded. Pepusch came out of the house and wagged his head as he
crossed the lawn. His somewhat sour look had vanished. He went up to
Lavinia and patted her shoulder.

"Dat vas goot, young laty--ver goot," he growled.

"What did I tell you doctor?" cried Gay exultantly. "Why, she can sing
everything set down for Polly--I pray you don't forget it is to be
Polly--Peachum. She _is_ Polly Peachum. What do you think, Mr. Pope?"

"Polly Peachum by all means since you will have it so. If an author has
a right to anything it is surely the right to name his offspring as he
will. He need not even consult his wife--if he have one. But though you
call your work an opera Mr. Gay, it is also a play. The songs are not
everything--indeed, Mr. Rich would say they're nothing. Can the girl
act?"

"She can be taught and I'll swear she'll prove an apt pupil. 'Twill, I
fear, be many months before it is staged. Rich has not made up his mind.
I hear Mr. Huddy who was dispossessed of the Duke's Theatre contemplates
the New Theatre in the Haymarket. I must talk to him. He hasn't yet
found his new company. An indifferent lot of strolling players I'm told
was his old one. Polly probably won't have a singing part but that's of
no great matter just now."

"You're bound to build castles in the air Mr. Gay," said Dr. Arbuthnot,
taking his churchwarden from his lips. "Suppose you come down to _terra
firma_ for a brief space. The girl is a singer--that cannot be gainsaid.
She may become an actress--good. But now--who is she? Her father--her
mother----"

"They can hardly be said to exist," broke in Gay. "I will tell you the
sto