some lesser lights--a violinist, a pianist, and a singer of French
drawing-room melodies. On the morning of the day on which her concert
was to be given, the hostess received a telegram from the singer of
French drawing-room melodies to say that she had got a bad cold, and
could not possibly sing that night. The hostess was in despair, but a
musical friend of hers came to the rescue, and promised to obtain for
her an excellent substitute, a man who sang Greek songs.

* * * * *

When Margaritis received the telegram from Arkwright's Agency that
he was to sing that night at A---- House, he was overjoyed, and could
scarcely believe his eyes. He at once communicated the news to Tina, and
they spent hours in discussing what songs he should sing, who the good
fairy could have been who recommended him, and in building castles in
the air with regard to the result of this engagement. He would become
famous; they would have enough money to go to Italy for a holiday; he
would give concerts; he would reveal to the modern world the music of
Hellas.

About half-past four in the afternoon Margaritis went out to buy
himself some respectable evening studs from a large emporium in the
neighbourhood. When he returned, singing and whistling on the stairs for
joy, he was met by Tina, who to his astonishment was quite pale, and he
saw at a glance that something had happened.

"They've put me off!" he said. "Or it was a mistake. I knew it was too
good to be true."

"It's not that," said Tina, "it's Carlo!" Carlo was their little boy,