"And here he is again? And here? And here?"—shuffling still another picture into view.
"Yes."
"He's fond of costume, isn't he?"
"Very versatile," returned Cope, lightly and briefly. "Clothes to correspond."
Mrs. Phillips began to peer again at the picture of the choir-group. "Isn't he here too?"
"Yes. With the first tenors. There you have him, —third from the left, just behind that row of little devils in surplices."
"You and he sing together?"
"Sometimes—when we are together."
"'Larboard Watch' and 'Suona la Tromba' and——?"
"Oh, heavens!" said Cope. He threw up his head quite spiritedly. There was now more color in his cheeks, more sparkle in his eyes, more vibration in his voice. Amy looked at him with a vanishing pity and a growing admiration.
"Let us fellows be of our own day and generation," he added.
"Willingly," said Mrs. Phillips. "But my husband was fond of 'Larboard Watch'; I heard him sing in it before we were married. Shall I ever hear you sing together?" she asked.
"Possibly. He is coming down here early in January. To look after me."
"After you?" Mrs. Phillips reviewed the photographs once more. "I imagine you may sometimes have to look after him."
