"Yes," said Marian, flushing slightly, and looking steadily at him.
Then, controlling her voice with an effort, she added, "Do not try again
to browbeat me into telling you a falsehood, Sholto."

Douglas looked at her in surprise. Before he could answer, Miss McQuinch
reappeared.

"Well, Nelly," said Marmaduke: "is there any piano left?"

"Not much," she replied, with a sullen laugh. "I never played worse in
my life."

"Wrong notes? or deficiency in the sacred fire?"

"Both."

"I believe your song comes next," said the clergyman to Conolly, who had
been standing apart, listening to Miss McQuinch's performance.

"Who is to accompany me, sir?"

"Oh--ah--Miss McQuinch will, I am sure," replied the Rev. Mr. Lind,
smiling nervously. Conolly looked grave. The young lady referred to
closed her lips; frowned; said nothing. Marmaduke chuckled.

"Perhaps you would rather play your own accompaniment," said the
clergyman, weakly.

Conolly shook his head decisively, and said, "I can do only one thing at
a time, sir."