Moore was going to sing; and at length Mrs. Mellord came to the young
man and frankly preferred her request.

"Oh, yes," said he, most good-naturedly.

"The serenade?" she ventured to hint.

"Oh, not the serenade!" said he, with a laugh. "Every butcher's boy in
the streets whistles it."

"All England is singing it--and a good thing, too," she made answer; and
then she said, with some emphasis: "I am sure no one rejoices more than
myself at the great popularity of 'The Squire's Daughter.' I am very
glad to see that a comedy-opera may be based on the best traditions of
English music; and I hope we shall have a great deal less of the
Offenbach tinkle-tankle."

"The serenade, if you like, then," said he, with, careless good-humor;
what did it matter to him?

"And whom shall I get to play an accompaniment for you?"

"Oh, you needn't trouble; I can do that for myself--"

"But you must make one young lady supremely happy," said she, with
insidious flattery.

He glanced round the studio.

"I see Miss Lestrange over there--she has played it for me